Illusion
by Madame Onyx
Summary: READ INTRO. SLASH. Ping is the unmanly son of Fa Zhou; what happens when he runs away from home to join the army and meets a young man by the name of Li Shang? Rated T for language, M for later chaters.
1. Chapter 1

**So I was watching Mulan the other day ( I was babysitting my mom's friend's kids) and suddenly I thought: what if Mulan had really been a boy named Ping? And so, this happened. I daydreamed about it fr a while, wrote down a draft, typed it on here. If you are against Shang being with another boy, don't read this. Later chapters would upset you greatly ;P **

**For the rest of you who like a little Shang on Ping action...there isn't much in this chapter. I just wanted you to get a feel for Ping's character. Shang's development will come later. **

**Sorry to waste so much of your time. Cough, (review) cough!**

_ I must have meant to be a woman, _Ping realized one day as he was helping his father feed the chickens. At the time he was only twelve; no child's body had developed yet, and boys and girls were distinguishable only by the length of their hair.

But even then, his family knew he was not the normal little boy. His skin was too soft, as well as his hands. His black eyes were wide and his lips too pouty to look as though they belonged on a boy's face. And as he grew, the only thing that changed was his height and his voice, though it wasn't rough or commanding like most 18-year-old boys'; it was strong yet quiet at the same time.

His father spoke very little of him to strangers and acquaintances, only mentioning him if they happened to see Ping walk by or appear at the door. Fa was kind to his son, usually—he inquired about his studies and friends (though he had few), and often asked Ping to help him with a farming task or household chore. Even to go to the market with him (although Ping wandered off and got into trouble so often now that the offer had declined a bit). But Fa Zhou did not brag about his son; for what was there to brag about?

He was the poorest in his Kung Fu classes, so much so that Zhou had removed him after a year of training. Instead of studying the art of war, Ping preferred Chinese checkers and puzzles. When other boys wrestled in the dust and held contests of strength to win admiring glances from the girls, Ping laid in the grass and daydreamed. He read books on far away countries and learned about medicine. He was slim and soft, with a full-moon face and gently rounded chin. He was shorter than any other boy his age. He preferred the company of animals to people. Peers called him a weakling, a reject of the Fa lineage.

And so Zhou did not brag.

His mother and grandmother now—that's a different story. Though he'd rather spend time alone with his dog (Little Brother) and horse (Khan), Ping found it soothing to sit with his mother and grandmother and help them pick beans while listening-not listening to their quiet talk of gossip and weather and fabric. He helped cook (when his father wasn't looking) and even helped his mother in the garden.

His life was somewhat normal, a normal routine that he could count on. It wasn't a life he wanted, but it wasn't horrible either.

And then the drums sounded.

Their beat reverberated over the river and trees, creating a pulse of alarm throughout the village. People gathered at the town gates as imperial horses galloped in magnificently, groomed pelts shining. One man, mounted on a pure white stallion, raked his eyes over the people like they were ants and unrolled the scroll clutched in his jeweled fingers.

"Citizens!" He bellowed out, "I bring a proclamation from the Imperial City! The Huns have invaded China!" Woman gasped and moaned, children, sensing the danger, backed into the shadows, silent as death. Ping stood against a wall beside his father, heart beating rapidly.

_Huns? In China?_

"By order of the emperor, one man from each family must serve in the imperial army!"

He started reading names off.

"The Shau family!"

A thin man walked up to him and bowed, taking the outstretched scroll handed for him. Ping closed his eyes and shook his head. _No, no..._

"The Yee family!"

Ping saw an elder man start heading towards him like a snail when a younger man stopped him and walked briskly up to the rider. "I will serve in my father's place." He announced, bowing and accepting the scroll.

_No, not father..._

"The Fa family!"

Ping's eyes flew open and he instantly grabbed out at his father's arm. He'd stop him, and take the draft himself, save his father from an awful death...

When his hand was slapped away. He looked up and Zhou turned away from him and laboriously made his way to the rider after freezing Ping with a glare.

He took the scroll.

The rider might as well just behead him now and save his father the trouble of marching halfway across China for it. It was more than a drafting letter.

It was a death sentence.

Ping, holding back tears of anger and humiliation, ran into the garden to hide.

Rain had always soothed Ping; he had thought of it as cleansing of the world by the gods' tears. Or perhaps it was just ordinary water from the gray clouds above. Either way, the rain now seemed to mock him somehow, taunt him about his weakness, his spineless voice, his failures.

He couldn't even save his own father.

His father would leave in the morning; Ping was sure he'd never return. Why couldn't he had stopped him? But Ping knew the answer.

Because he was powerless.

Ping looked up and saw the silhouettes of his parents in their bedroom; his mother appeared to be crying, his father placing his hands on her shoulders. She shook him off and his father watched after her, blowing out the candle as she went.

Ping watched with dark eyes that, slowly, gained a glint of light in them. He got up from the stone he had been sitting on for nearly the entire day and walked to the ancestral shrine.

He was going to save his father, whether Zhou liked it or not.

Upon entering the shrine Ping diligently sparked the candles into life and bowed down to the floor to pray when he heard something. Pausing his breath and listening, he found it to be...snoring?

Ping stealthily stood up and balanced on tip-toe to peer behind a tombstone to see a small red lizard laying on the floor, sleeping, a tiny jet of smoke coming from its nostrils with every exhale.

Ping's brow furrowed. "A lizard?"

Suddenly the lizard stopped snoring and jolted awake, shaking its head and muttering.

"Can't no one get a good nap in here? Old grandpa spirit got me bustin' ass for him all day with polishing and weeding..."

Ping's eyes widened and he watched curiously as the lizard stood up on two hind legs and walked his long, serpent-like body over to where a small gong lay discarded. Upon picking up the gong, the lizard caught Ping's reflection in the shiny surface and whipped its long head around to meet Ping's gaze.

They stood staring at each other for a minute before Ping said, "You can...talk?"

"Well, I don't use many fancy terms like some do, but—" It snapped its mouth shut like a trap door, eyes bulged at what he'd just done. "Uhh..." It scratched its head with claws. "You didn't hear that from me."

Ping smiled. "You're a talking lizard?"

"DRAGON," it almost yelled, pointing at its teeth and tail. "I'm a DRAGON. I breath FIRE and have legs."

"Lizards have legs. You're thinking about snakes." Ping walked around to the other side of the tombstone and knelt down until he was eye-level with it. "So what's a talking lizard doing in my family' shrine?"

"Well, I—DRAGON." Ping stifled a laugh. "I'm...not really here," it started saying, retreating to the shadows and speaking in a ghostly voice. "I'm an illusion, a figment of your imagination...go back to bed and dream of dresses and dolls and...whatever it is girls dream..."

Ping frowned. "I'm not a girl."

The lizard stopped. "Fine. Whatever it is _women _dream about."

"My name is _Ping! _I'm the only son of Fa Zhou and a _boy_! I will _not _be called a girl by a talking lizard."

"I'M NOT A LIZARD! MUSHU IS A—"

"Mushu?"

The lizard stopped waving its arms.

"Your name is Mushu? Wait a minute..."

Ping studied the names of the family's guardians on the wall until he found what he'd been looking for. "_You're _a guardian?"

"Well, I..." Mushu paused and his lips pulled back into a smile, showing small needle-sharp teeth, his golden slits flashing. "Yes...yes, I am a guardian! In fact, I am the mightiest guardian of all! I watch after your dreams at night! I whisper the wisdom you think into your head! I have guided the greatest warriors through the greatest battles! I—"

Ping's eyebrows shot up at the last grouping of feats. "You what? You guided them through battle?"

"I watched over their souls and necks—"

"I'm going to battle right now."

Mushu faltered in his powerful speech. "What?"

"I'm gathering my things and heading off tonight to camp and training with the other men. If you're really my guardian," Ping crossed his arms, "come with me."

"I...uh..." Mushu stumbled over his words.

"But of course, you're probably not powerful enough to help me, are you? You'd probably get eaten by a hawk the first hour we're out on the road like most lizards are." Ping put out the incense and started walking away. "Just stay here in your cozy shrine while us real warriors are off claiming names for ourselves—"

"I'LL GO! You should be thankful you have the powerful Mushu with you to save your sorry b-hind!"

Ping smiled humorlessly and entered the house quietly, listening to the sounds of uneasy sleep from his parents and grandmother. He slipped into his room and placed a few changes of clothes in his sack, then snuck into his father's room, taking the draft from his nightstand.

He proceeded to putting on the armor (which was much more tedious than expected) and tied his father's sword around his waist.

Ping opened the doors to the stables as a flash of lightning spooked Khan as much as Ping's fierce appearance did—he managed to calm him down and mounted him, taking one last look at his home. He felt Mushu leap up onto the saddle and settle in a saddlebag comfortably.

"Your family doesn't know?" He guessed.

Ping just nodded. With a "Ya!" he spurred Khan through the gates.

0*o*0

Ping rode through the night, certain he would have a cold after the wonderful run in the cool rain. Khan sensed his urgency and unease and ran faster than he ever had before, though Ping directed him carefully over slick hills and slopes.

Ping stopped only after Khan's breath grew dangerously short and wheezy, letting him lap up water from a nearby pool and grazing a bit before settling into a steady sleep. Ping, too anxious to sleep, sat under a tree and watched the late morning sun play with the light on the leaves. Mushu bothered him for food and Ping nodded absently, giving him a few dumplings.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Mushu asked while scarfing down his food. Ping shook his head. His stomach felt so tight and jumpy he doubted he'd be able to keep any food down.

"What's wrong with you? Teenage hormones got you all moody?"

Ping shot him a glare and sighed. "I just...my father probably knows by now I stole his armor and left...he'll be furious."

Mushu licked his scaled fingers. "'Steal'? Why didn't he give you his armor? Surely he'd be proud of his only son marching into battle for him."

Ping winced and looked down, plucking a few strands of grass from their roots. "...I don't think he's ever been proud of me. Why would he be?"

Mushu opened his mouth and closed it again. He didn't know what to say.

0*o*0

Ping arrived at camp the next day on a tired horse and set up his tent a few yards off from the others. For an hour or more he struggled with the poles and robes used to keep it upright; it ended up tilted on one side with a huge dip in the middle. But it was Ping's first time assembling a tent, and he was somewhat proud he had finished it, no matter how terrible it looked next to the perfectly assembled tents of the others.

He left his sword in his tent and tied Khan up loosely, though he knew he wouldn't roam too far. Mushu nestled in the back of his tunic, behind his head. His scales scraped lightly against Ping's sensitive skin, making him shiver slightly before entering the main camp.

Everywhere he looked there were men; eating, arguing, spitting, toe-picking, shouting, carrying boxes, loading weapons, carting supplies. The air was filled with grunts and grumbles and deep voices, and smelled like food, sweat and unwashed socks.

Ping swallowed his disgust when he saw a large, overly hairy man spit onto a plate and scrub it with a dirty rag to clean it.

He was so busy watching his surroundings he forgot to watch where he was going and ran straight into a towering wall of fat and fell back down. He looked up to see a huge guy with a bald head and a calm face gazing down at him with soft eyes.

He stooped down and effortlessly plucked Ping from the ground and set him upright on both legs like he were a doll. Ping blushed and gave a shallow bow right as another man—short and sturdy, and walking kind of like an ape—came up behind the giant, along with a man that resembled a noodle for his skinny torso and long legs.

"Who's the girl?" The short one asked in a gruff voice. To his horror, Ping felt his blush brighten.

"I'm not a girl!" He squeaked out. He cleared his throat and repeated in a low voice, "I'm not a girl. I'm Fa Ping."

"'Ping'?" The short one asked, nudging the noodle-man roughly. "Ay, Ling, you here that? Her parents named her Ping. Must look like her father."

"Hey," Ling said back, "Don't joke about her father, Yao. You know how _sensitive _girly-men are." They laughed while the fat guy blinked apologetically at him.

Ping heard Mushu whispering to him.

"They're testing you," Mushu said. "It's what guys do. Punch him."

_"What?" _

"Just give him a punch in the arm."

Ping shook his head but did as Mushu said and raised his arm back and brought it down, aiming for his arm. But at the last second the man shifted to the side and Ping's fist connected with his rather off-putting face.

He toppled back a bit, and his face turned purple, his eyes narrowed.

_Oh, shit. _

Ping listened to his screaming instincts as the short man came at him and turned, running away. All three gave chase; Yao, Ling, and the Buddha man. Ling and Buddha probably to try and keep Yao from killing him to violently.

For the second time that day, Ping ran into another person; but this wall was firm, not fat, and warm, and smelled ever so slightly of linen and pine needles. Ping looked up into a pair of fierce, if right now slightly surprised, brown eyes darker than overturned earth. His face was broad and angular, with high cheeks bones and a strong chin. His eyebrows were thick, his neck even thicker. His broad shoulders sported a royal red cape over his armor that was sightly richer than Ping's own. He could only be a year or two older than Ping, but stood almost a foot taller than him. Which meant he had a few inches of height on other men.

The men behind Ping tried to stop; Yao tripped and fell straight against the huge pot of rice the cook had been cooking for the entire camp. Grains of rice flew everywhere and the men got into a fist fight over who had spilled it.

Ping saw a scrawny man in royal clothes stand behind the impressive man and smirk condescendingly at him while writing something on a board with a brush.

"Welcome to your first day, Captain Shang."

Shang glared at him and then shifted it at Ping.

Ping felt like he would have rather been killed by Yao.


	2. Begining

**Whoa. Two chapters in the same weekend? You guys are lucky I'm so bored. That, and I'm really excited about this Fanfic. XD Enjoy**

Shang took a deep breath to calm his nerves. His master had always said; _Breathing, Shang. Keep your chi flowing. In, out, always_. He robed himself in his plain tunic and tied up his hair, ready to start the first official day of training; he regarded yesterday's rice incident a warm-up for what was to come. Shang grimaced over the complete and utter lack of discipline these men showed; they were nothing but small-town animals with limited knowledge of the art of war.

But if anyone can train them, Shang thought as he stepped out into the morning sunrise, I can. His father believed he could, and if a great man like that thought so, it must be true.

He heard the chatter from numerous men rise as he turned a corner and saw another brawl already on the way. Gods, couldn't they behave like men instead of children?

Again, it was centered around that boy; Fa Ping, he had said his name was. Yesterday Shang had examined him for a moment before informing him they were not taking any children into the army. At this his face reddened.

"I'm eighteen," he mumbled, scratching his head, his left eyebrow twitching with irritation.

Shang found it hard to believe that the great Fa Zhou could produce only this child, who looked more like a flat-chested girl than a man.

Today the short one, Yao, was about to punch hm in his face, most likely payback for the rice last night. _Here we go._

"Soldiers!"

He rang out in a confident voice. The men instantly stood tall and formed in a straight line. "You will assemble swiftly and silently for my command each morning."

Ping felt a mixture of gratitude and miniscule fear when the captain address them. Sure, it got Yao and Ling off his ass, but he had a feeling his little rice-incident was grounds for punishment.

"You will assemble swiftly and silently for my command each morning."

_Why _couldn't _he _have a voice like that? Deep, strong, masculine. Peeking over the protruding gut of the man next to him, Ping snuck a glance at Shang and found him taking off the thin robe that covered his torso, leaving him with only pants on. He was impressively muscled, with taut skin and broad shoulders.

He made Ping feel like an insect.

"Anyone who acts otherwise," Shang continued, walking down the line with a bow and quiver of arrows, "will answer to _me_."

"Ooh," everyone heard Yao mutter, "tough guy."

Shang raised an eyebrow—Ping had seen _that _look before—and knocked an arrow.

"Yao." He pulled back the string and took aim at Yao's head; everyone else stood back with a surprised grunt. Ping felt panic rise in him.

_He's not actually going to—_

Shang tilted the bow up and let the arrow fly, impaling it into the wood at the top of a pole, more than twenty men tall.

"Thank you for volunteering," Shang mockingly conveyed, setting down the weapon. "Retrieve the arrow."

Yao looked up at the arrow and frowned, cracking his knuckles. "I'll get that arrow, pretty boy," he muttered, stepping foreward, "and I'll do it with my shirt _on_." Ping stopped the small chuckle that rose in his throat and asked himself why he found that funny.

"One moment," Shang said, beckoning the same condescending man Ping had seen yesterday—Chi-Fu?-carrying a small box that had him sweating beads and struggling to walk upright. Shang opened the box and took out two huge yen-shaped stones with bands strung on each. He tied them easily to Yao's wrists.

"This," he said, holding up the right one, "represents discipline. And this," holding up the left, "Represents strength." He let go of each; they dragged Yao down to the earth like lead. Ling and Chien-Po snickered. "You need both to reach the arrow."

Yao looked up again at the arrow despairingly, gaining a sudden rush of energy at the challenge and jumping up onto the pole. He climbed a few feet, then came crashing down, the weights too much to handle.

Shang frowned and took the weights off him; Yao returned to his place in line without another word. Shang raised his eyes.

"Who wants to go next?"

_He wants us all to try it? _Ping thought. He glanced over at the much more muscled Yao. _If _he _can't do it, there's no way _I _can..._

As though he heard his thoughts, Shang's gaze stopped on him.

"Ping. Come up here."

Trying to swallow his fear, Ping stepped forward and let Shang tie the weights to each wrist. He felt uncomfortable with the captain so close to him. And bare-chested.

Ping looked up at the arrow sitting so innocently at the top and sighed, starting to climb. He got about two yards up before his arms started to quake and burn. Those weights were _heavy_. He glanced down and saw the captain staring up at him with an expectant expression that seemed..._amused? _He was getting humor from this?

Ping felt the embarrassment reach his limit and let his fingers slip, almost glad when his rear hit the ground. He was able to slip his thin wrists out of the bands and return to the line, out of the captain's piercing gaze.

The only upside was that no one was able to get the arrow. The downside was that the men all seemed to take out there anger on Ping.

Training was hell for him. Every time he tried to shoot a cannon, Ling would trip it; during every staff-training Yao would slap him; and at every mealtime Ping sat alone. He tried to think of a way to impress them—and it came to him like a bolt of lightning. He got up and searched for the weights.

0*o*0

Shang washed his face in the basin tiredly. Another day of disappointment. It'd been a week since the troops had started his training course. There was no doubt they were more orderly, less like bickering children and more like soldiers—but they were poor soldiers at that. They couldn't aim a bow to save their lives. Hand to hand combat was nothing more than a warm-up for him; and he took each soldier on one-on-one. The cannon training had improved, however; more dummies blown up, less tents destroyed.

Although, he hadn't really minded when Chi-Fu's tent had been annihilated. But Chi-Fu sure did; he marched down to the training grounds and demanded to know who had done it. Shang wasn't surprised when Fa Ping grimaced into a sheepish smile and raised his hand.

Fa Ping...

He was the worst of them all. Slower, weaker, poor fighting skills. Shang had to explain things out to him, and even then he seemed to have a millions questions about everything that had nothing to do with their battle. _What wood is the bow made of? What country do Huns come from? Is there a limit to how high birds can fly?_

Shang groaned and ran his hands over his face. He wasn't sure where exactly that last one had come from, but it had been asked, all the same.

The boy—for Shang could not bring himself to call Ping a man—would be killed. Shang gave him two minutes to live on the battlefield, three tops. The army didn't need weaklings like him; he'd only slow them down. He'd have to send him home. In fact, it was already dawn; another sleepless night for the captain.

He got up and dressed, his intent to send off Ping resolute when he heard cheering coming from outside. _What is going on? _

He exited the tent and looked at the men crowding around the pole. _Wha— _A whistling headed right for him and an arrow stuck in the ground a foot from where he was standing. Shang blinked and looked up, his eyes widening at what he saw.

Fa Ping was on top of the pole, both weights slung over his shoulders and a self-satisfied smile on his face. Shang's mouth dropped as he saluted his captain. The men cheered again and waved their fists around as he slowly made his way down the pole.

Shang let a disbelieving smile cross his face and walked over to Ping, trying to wipe it off into the usual stoic mask he wore as an officer. He felt a strange sense of pride swell in him and forced it down.

"Fa Ping."

Ping's night-black eyes met his nervously. "Captain?"

Shang gestured to the pole. "You retrieved the arrow?"

"Aye, captain."

"With the weights?"

Ping nodded. Shang couldn't hold back his smile. The other troops had been trying everyday for a week to get it. He clasped Ping on the shoulder, (_Gods he has scrawny shoulders_), and felt the boy start at his touch and look up. Shang offered up only two words.

"Well done."

Ping's face turned red and he murmured something unintelligible—perhaps a thank you—before bowing his head. The troops swarmed around him, clasping arms, rough pats on the back, lewd jokes.

After that, Shang never complained about Ping's strangeness again.

He seemed to inspire the troops; when they shot arrows and Ping actually managed to pin one fruit to the tree, they all aimed better. When Ping landed one punch, they tried to KO their opponent. And when Ping took down the first dummy on the first try of the canon, their accuracy skyrocketed. It was probably because Ping was so scrawny; if _he _could do it, _they _could do it.

And a few days later, Shang found Ping's strong point.

It happened during a rainy day. The lightning and wind were so fierce that Shang had them all retire to the tents early. Many sat in the eating hall and held arm-wrestling contests and ate the food the cooks whipped up. A few held up books that Shang was sure were paintings of women.

Ling and Yao were sitting in the corner, watched intently by Ping as they stared at a weiqi board. The two player's brows were furrowed in concentration when Yao exploded, tipping over a barrel full of rainwater.

"Screw this game!" He steamed, stalking off. Ling scratched his head and shrugged to Ping, who took Yao's place.

Interested, Shang watched.

He had played weiqi many times; it was the most strategic and complex game in China, despite its simple rules. The objective was to occupy more space on the board with your stone pieces then your opponent. You can also capture your opponent's pieces to win the game. Shang was very good at.

After ten minutes of playing, Ping had dominated Ling.

Ling sat blank-faced at the board with his mouth hanging open. He said something and Ping threw back his head and laughed.

Shang found himself entranced. Ping closed his eyes when he laughed, he noted. He also noticed how hard his heart was beating and how strange his face felt. He touched it; he was smiling. The thought made him frown.

Ling tapped Ping on the shoulder and pointed over at Shang. Ping looked and met Shang's gaze.

Shang blinked in confusion as he felt his ears turn warm and stood up suddenly, stalking away and out of the tent. He narrowed his eyes against the pellets of rain that the wind threw at him.

He felt like a little boy getting caught red-handed; but getting caught red-handed at WHAT? He was Ping's captain, he could look at or watch whoever the hell he wanted. He had just been interested in the game; that was all. He didn't care if Ping was playing or laughing.

Shang shook himself and stumbled into his tent, shaken in more ways then one.

0*o*0

As the troops did their morning forms while balancing buckets of water on their heads, Shang walked around them and examined them, straightened backs, adjusted arms. He noticed Ping was not in his usual spot; in fact, Ping wasn't anywhere.

Shang raised an eyebrow and approached Ling and Yao.

"Ling, Yao," he greeted formally, "Where is Ping?"

They shrugged their shoulders. "He must have overslept," Ling offered.

Yet something didn't settle right in Shang's gut and he decided to just go check in on him. He turned to his men and yelled, "Twelve laps around the pond, get a drink and then start on archery. I have matters to attend to."

The men groaned but obeyed and started their laps while the captain started jogging out to the tents. It was easy to find Ping's now correctly made tent with his horse tied to a stake in the ground. The black horse was fidgeting, walking to and fro agitatedly, flicking its ears and letting out soft whinnies.

Shang pulled back the flap of the tent and peered inside, finding everything tidy and clean. Even his own tent wasn't like this.

There wasn't a body in there.

The horse reared back and let out an enraged neighing, pawing the air with its hooves . It kept tugging on its ties to the west, near a thicket of trees that nestled over a creek.

Shang walked over to the horse and met its intelligent eyes."Do you know where Ping is?" The horse let out a loud exhale and flicked its ears westward. Shang cut its ties and climbed on its back.  
>The horse lurched off so fast Shang was sure he was about to fall off, but regained his handling and held on. The horse galloped over the plain to the trees and slowed down, ears pricked and eyes wide with fright.<p>

Shang led it almost silently through the foliage until they arrived at a gap in the trunks and leaves, giving Shang a good look at the creek and the men.

There were four men, all dirty, scarred specimens with haunted looks in their eyes as they sat around the fire they made. One was going over a map, another with a ratty beard sharpened his sword, and a third with numerous tattoos stood over three people, all bound by ropes around their hands and feet. The first two were pretty young women who looked pale and frightened, most likely two farmer's daughters judging by their clothes.

The third was Ping.

Shang watched the tattooed man run his hands over one woman's trembling face and felt disgust rising in him, urging him to quietly unsheathe his sword.

"Get you filthy hands off her!"

Shang's breath caught when he heard Ping snarl at the man with such venom he had never heard in that quiet voice before. The man stood up and glared at him, then walked over to him lazily, grinning a near-toothless smile.

"Whaddu say, _boy_?" He asked in a sickly sweet voice. He grabbed Ping by the front of his tunic and pulled him close enough to smell his rotting breath. Shang felt a growl rip through clenched teeth and tightened his grip on his sword, ready to jump out and slice the man's head off for touching Ping.

But before he could blink the tattooed man abruptly let go of Ping, eyes wide and staggering backwards, clutching his chest as red blossomed on his shirt. A suddenly free Ping stood up and flourished the knife that each soldier had been handed out on the first day.

The three other men were on their feet in a second; but by then Ping had run to the woman's side and cut loose both their bonds.

"Go!" He urged them to run, "_GO!" _

The women took his advice and ran like frightened deer, disappearing from sight. One man took off after them and stopped short when Ping's dagger buried itself up to the hilt in his head. Ping whipped around to face the two remaining men wielding wicked-looking blades weaponless. The men ran at him and swung their swords for his neck...

Ping rolled out of the way at the same moment Shang leaped out of the cover of leaves and blocked their blows with his sword, kicking one away and slicing the other's arm.

Ping had rolled away and grabbed a thick branch; now he crouched on the ground and stared at Shang with undisguised surprise.

The man whose arm Shang had cut aimed toward Ping; Ping held up the branch and the blade bit into the bark and wood, sticking. While the man tried to pull it out, Shang stuck him in the back and he fell down instantly.

Shang looked at Ping the moment the man with the ratty beard jumped up behind the captain with sword raised; Ping grasped the dead man's sword and swung it with the tip still lodged in the wood. The blade cut in his neck as the blunt wood cracked his skull.

He fell as Ping and Shang looked around, breathing hard.

Shang grabbed Ping's arm and his sword and led the soldier up the slope towards his horse.

"Um," Ping started nervously, "those girls—"

"Are you all right?" Shang demanded, inspecting him closely. His plain tunic hung loosely on his body, exposing a shoulder. He had a few bruises on his wrists where they had tied the rope, and a bleeding scratch on his hand, probably accidentally self-inflicted when he was cutting through the rope. Shang found himself being drawn to his neck and the dip of his shoulder, then tearing his eyes away angrily.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Shouldn't we go after the girls—"

"How did they capture you?" Shang asked, calmer now. Ping blinked.

"I was going to fill up my canteen with the water from the flowing creek rather then the pond when I..." He turned a bit pink and scratched his head in a familiar gesture that Shang had become use to. "I tripped and fell down the slope right into their camp. I didn't have a chance."

Shang breathed in deeply and ran a hand through his hair that had begun falling loose since the fight. "I see," he murmured, gazing down at Ping. He pointed at Ping's belt around his tunic. "Your clothes are practically falling off," he mentioned helpfully.

Ping looked down and noticed his disarray of clothes and chuckled, embarrassed. He unwound the wrapping and the tunic parted to reveal a toned, slim build. Again, that strange glow started to fill Shang until he felt like light was coming from his pores. _I put that muscle there, _he thought proudly. He watch with steady eyes as Ping struggled to tie the loop. He looked up at Shang apologetically when he raised an eyebrow.

"M-my fingers are kind of clumsy...they feel heavy after being tied up for so long."

Shang sported a microscopic smile as he gently slapped Ping's hands away and stood close to him, looking down at his belt and quickly fastening his tunic.

His eyes flickered up to Ping's face, even redder than before and eyes shyly avoiding Shang's. _So cute._

His hands stopped along with his breath. Ping looked up at him questioningly and cocked his head to the side. Shang stood looking at him vacantly.

_What? _A loud, angry voice demanded. _WHAT did you just think? You called another man 'cute'! What is __WRONG__ with you?_

"Shang?"

A soothing voice calling out his name brought him back to earth and he blinked rapidly before focusing on Ping, still maintaining his grip on his belt.

"Um, is there something wrong, Captain?"

He was so close. So very close. Shang could feel his breath hitting his neck. His skin looked so soft...

_Get away from him!_

Shang jerkily let go of Ping's finished belt and stood back, searching for an excuse.

"I...I..." He grew angry with himself for his idiocy. "G-get back to camp! And don't tell the other soldiers about this; they'll be out hunting for those girls." _And if you tell them how I acted, _Shang thought sullenly as Ping nodded his head and ran for his horse, petting its neck and mane, _someone who's NOT as naïve as you might suspect something._

**Aw. I love how shy Shang is about his closet feelings for Ping. What do you think? Tell me! Message, review, something! **


	3. Splinters and Splashes

**Hm not many reviews on this fanfic yet. **

**I SHALL ADVERTISE!**

Ping skipped lunch today; he wasn't feeling hungry, though he did grab an apple to take with him. He walked through the camp, marveling at the quiet; with everyone eating, the only sounds were the occasional burps and the wind ruffling the tents.

He found himself walking automatically to the stables to visit Khan. He hadn't ridden him in a while; perhaps they'd go on short ride to the ravine and back. Ping could shoot arrows from his saddle, a skill in which Shang had commented on about his natural ability for.

Shang...

Ping frowned when he thought of the captain. He didn't _usually _frown when the older man came to mind, in fact Ping suddenly felt a lot brighter when he did, but recently...

He felt like Shang was avoiding him.

When they ran up the mountain each morning, Shang would usually run next to or near him; now Ping couldn't get close to him, whether it was because Shang was way in front or shifted away. And even in archery; when Shang made his rounds to check their aim, he barely looked at Ping's shots; he didn't even look at PING! The same with hand-to-hand and sword training; Shang never met his eye and offered only brusque words of encouragement, when _before _he would show Ping exactly what he meant.

Ping frowned deeper in concentration. Before WHAT? When had Shang started acting so...weird?

Ping was so deep in thought he wasn't aware that the stable hand—a man named Yuu a few years older than Shang—was feeding the horses until Ping walked straight into the water basin for the horses, splashing the drinking water on the dirt floor and soaking himself.

_(POV change)_

Shang walked behind the first row of tents after his meeting with Chi-Fu. The recent memory made him boil.

"You think they are ready for war?" Chi-Fu sneered, looking down at the sitting captain like a teacher to a student. Shang glared at him.

"They've completed their training with flying—"

"Ha! _'They've completed their training.' _Those _boys_ are no more fit to be soldiers than you are to be captain. We move out when I decide me move out, and not a day sooner."

Infuriated, Shang stood up, toppling over the stool. "Listen! You can't—"

"Careful, Captain," Chi-Fu said slowly. "Your father may be the general, but _I _am the emperor's adviser. And by the way," he added, swiping the tent flap open, "I got that job _on my own. _You're dismissed!"

Shang angrily left the tent after uselessly knocking the flap out of the way.

Now he made his way back to his own tent, far away from the pompous, useless, son of a—_splash. _Shang paused when he heard a ruckus coming from the stables.

He ran over to the wall and gazed in through the small opening of a window, seeing Yuu laughing almost uncontrollably, back up against the wall and hands clutching his sides as tears ran down his eyes.

Shang's eyes widened when out of the large water basin rolled Ping, clothes sopping wet and hair hanging down in loose, drenched locks. He licked his lips and shifted for a better view and then turned away, cursing himself. For almost three days he had managed to keep a distance between himself and Ping. He thought that if he kept away from the soldier, he'd be able to make these unnatural feelings evaporate.

But it just got worse.

He couldn't mock-fight Ping without calling it off after a few minutes because his pants got too tight; he couldn't talk to him for too long without slipping up and embarrassing himself; he couldn't even look at him for fear he would start staring. Which he did. Several times.

Now he couldn't resist turning back around and watching through the window, feeling disgusted with himself. _I'm basically a stalker_, he thought guiltily.

Ping had dragged himself off the floor and stood grimacing, red from neck to ears.

"I'm really sorry—"

"_Hahaha, _it's fine, Ping-y boy!" Yuu chortled, slapping him on the back and wiping a tear from his eye. "What were you thinking about?"

"Oh, nothing," Ping replied hastily, shedding off his tunic and keeping on his undershirt that clung to his chest like a second skin. Yuu resumed tossing hay to his and the other five horses.

"Come on now, Ping. It must be _something _if you walked straight into the basin thinking about it."

Shang saw Ping frown as he gathered his arms underneath his undershirt, preparing to take it off. He didn't like it when Ping frowned.

"Well...has Captain Shang..." Shang's eyebrows went up as his name was mentioned. "Has he been acting," Ping paused for a moment, "strange?"

Yuu hummed thoughtfully. "As a matter of fact, he _has _been acting a tad distracted recently. I wonder why?"

"I was trying to figure that out," Ping said, pulling off his shirt, his long torso dripping water. Shang held back a groan. _The universe is screwing with me. _

Yuu shrugged and got down the riding equipment, inspecting it for tears. "Usually I'd say it was lady problems, but there aren't any ladies in this camp. Trust me, I've looked."

"'Lady problems'?" Ping parroted.

"Aye," Yuu nodded sagely, "lady problems. That'll get any man's mind into a frenzy. And Shang's exhibiting all the signs; distracted? Yes. Moody? Like hell's souls. And, just once, I saw a little wood in our captain's royal pants."

Shang sucked in his breath. He'd kill Yuu. He bit his lip and looked over to Ping. He was now sitting on the floor, removing his drenched shoes and stockings, revealing slim calves and ankles. Could he get any more feminine?

Ping gave a confused look. "'Wood'?" Yuu sighed and beckoned him closer; Ping stood up and leaned in as Yuu whispered something. Ping's eyes got as round as the full moon and blushed. Gods, that blush...Shang shook off the thought.

"O-oh!" Ping exclaimed, studying the door of a stable stall. Shang groaned in despair and shifted his eyes towards the heavens.

Ping cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well...it's nice that he has someone like that," he said softly. Almost to himself, he asked in a near inaudible voice, "I wonder who it is?"

Shang felt like ripping out his hair.

_(POV change)_

"Tell ya this, though," Ping flinched when Yuu winked at him and nudged his in the bare ribcage, "Shang's special someone is probably a man."

A shiver ran up Ping's spine. "What? Why would you say that?"

Yuu shrugged. "Just a hunch. To be honest," He smiled, showing straight teeth, "I thought it was youfor a while."

Ping gasped in surprised and inhaled some water, choking and coughing. Yuu whacked him on the back a few times. "M-_me? Why?" _

Yuu tapped his chin. "Well, you _are _the captain's golden boy. First to get the arrow, first to land a hit, fastest runner of the pack. He always seemed to float near you anyway so..." Yuu waggled his eyebrows good-naturally. "But now I know that you're _way _too conservative to even consider it."

Ping felt a spark of annoyance. "I'm conservative?"

"You won't even bathe in front of the other men. You're like a..."

Ping gritted his teeth. "'Woman'?" He supplied virulently.

Yuu shrugged and left the stables, waving. Ping stared down at the floor, balling his hands into fists, the need to punch something welling up in his muscles.

"Dammit!" He drove his fist through the thin wood wall and felt the tension inside him level out a bit. He pulled out his hand, now scraped and splintered, and sat down dejectedly on a bench, his head hanging low.

What was wrong with him? He had never gotten this upset when someone had called him feminine before. Yes, it stung like a hornet each time, but he always managed to shake it off. And yet he felt this strange cluster of emotions tightening his throat and squeezing his heart, lingering.

And Shang. He couldn't stop thinking about Shang.

_Shang's someone special..._Ping tried to imagine his captain with a woman; his woman would have to be as beautiful as he is handsome, and she'd have to be smart because Shang loves talking about almost anything that interests him. She's have big hips just right for birthing babies and give him strong, healthy sons and lovely daughters and she'd make him laugh because oh _gods _was his smile great and she'd have to know how to cook peanut stir-fry because it's his favorite and...and...

Ping bit his lip and forced back the tears. Getting caught crying right now would so _not _help with the whole womanly image thing. Why did he feel like this? He should be happy for Shang. Shang had found a...lover...

"Ping?"

Ping heard the voice he had been missing for the past few days ring in his ears but didn't look up; if he looked up he'd find that it was only a dream, his imagination acting up on him. And then the sound of the large door sliding close and the strong presence of someone standing right in front of him, looking down at his skinny, unattractive, unmanly figure trying to hold back tears; that was just a dream too.

Randomly his father appeared in his thoughts, and Ping thought of how angry and worried he'd be.

"Ping."

A strong, warm hand landed on his shoulder and Ping stopped breathing as he tilted his head up and looked straight into Shang's rich brown orbs.

Wordlessly Shang lifted up Ping's hand, inspecting the minor scratches and cuts. He gingerly ran his fingers over it and started to pick out the small slivers of wood imbedded in the skin. Ping felt a bubble of insane giggles rise in him as he observed. _He's left-handed. I never noticed that. _

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Shang picking bloody splinters out of Ping's knuckles and Ping trying to ignore the pain as he watched his captain's face.

Ping had noticed that Shang had a limited array of faces; the most common one was his serious, screw-around-and-I'll-kill-you expression that he wore in front of the troops. Another was the focused, steady look on him now. But Ping remembered another one; the one after Shang had saved him from those bandits just a few days ago. When he started acing weird.

_Special someone..._

He could've sworn Shang had been blushing.

_Thought it was __you__ for a while..._

No. Impossible.

"Does it hurt?" Shang's ever so even voice was quiet. Ping shrugged and shook his head, even though the stinging and throbbing made him want to bite something.

"'S fine," he mumbled awkwardly, standing up. "Thank you, Captain...I should be going."

"Ping!" Shang called out, suddenly gripping his lean biceps and forcing the younger man to meet his eye. Shang blinked dumbly as Ping's heart tried its damnedest to break out of his ribcage. Slowly Shang let go of his arm and backed away, bringing his fingers to his chin in a...no way.

No.

Fucking.

Way.

_Captain Shang was __**blushing!**_

"I'm sorry!" He blurted out, still looking bashfully at the wall. He flicked his eyes over to the shirtless Ping and away again, running his fingers over his face. Ping noticed for the first time how tired he looked. "Just...I'm not good at apologizing..." Shang went on gruffly. "I, well, you...and..."

Ping felt his heart flutter and took a step towards him, clasping him on the shoulder. Shang looked down at him, surprised.

Ping let out a radiant smile full of relief. "You don't need to apologize, Captain Shang." Shang sucked in his breath and looked like he was on the edge of exploding. For some reason this made Ping extremely happy. His smile turned mischievous.

Without warning, he pushed his hands on the unsuspecting Shang's chest and tipped him over into the basin. Ping stood snickering while his captain sat dumbfounded in the water.

And then he blew Ping's mind by laughing the most glorious laugh he had ever heard. Maybe it was because Shang didn't laugh or smile that much. Or maybe he just had a nice laugh.

**Sorry if there are a lot of mistakes; I only proofread like twice, so I more than likely missed something. **

** (They will be leaving for war soon. Be prepared ^_^**


	4. Silver Blossoms and Scarlet Scales

_The warm body beneath him moaned and wriggled in pleasure, hot hands running up his back to clasp around his neck and broad shoulders. Shang kissed feverishly at a point on his neck, calloused palms running over toned abdomen and chest._

_Those sweet, full lips were open to let out pants of pleasure and impatience. His raven hair had fallen loose and surrounded his face, those onyx eyes squeezed shut by pure want. Shang felt another wave of heat overtake him and he dipped lower, lower, touching skin that had never been exposed to the sunlight._

_The whimpers coming from him were intoxicating, edging him on. Shang sighed contently._

_"Ping."_

Captain Li Shang opened his eyes to the early dawn light. He was cool with beaded sweat on his forehead and hairs along his hairline sticking to his skin. He lifted a hand to his face and rubbed his temples, groaning. And not in the way he had in the dream.

This was the fifth dream, to be exact. The fifth sweaty, steamy, stress-inducing dream that came rushing back whenever he looked or thought about the recipient of these lewd fantasies. Ping. Gods, even the _name_ gave him goosebumps.

Shang started to sit up and noticed—for the fifth morning in a row—that he'd have to wash his sheets again. He cursed, throwing his inadequate pillow at the ground the same moment Chi-Fu burst in, eyes wide and sleeping robe in disarray. In his boney hand he clutched an official document.

Shang tried to rearrange himself to hide the problem most men had in the mornings when the skinny man cried out, "Captain! A message! From the General!" Shang froze immediately, eyes going wide and heart speeding. "We're needed at the front immediately!"

0*o*0

"For the last time, Mushu, you can_not_ tie Khan to a rocket to see if he'll blast off."

"Ping, my boy, I wouldn't tie him to a rocket, it'd have to be a couple dozen rockets to get your cow off the ground for liftoff."

"Nnneeerrg!"

"Down, Bessy."

"Stop jumping on his back. One of the troops might see you."

"Please, I am a master of stealth and camouflage."

"I found you easily enough when you were screwing around in my ancestors' shrine. And it's _white_ everywhere, Mushu. There_ is_ no camouflage."

It was one day into walking, and Ping felt ready to make a nice pair of red dragon-hide boots if Mushu didn't shut up. They walked at the front of the orderly group behind Shang, with the third horseman at the back and the troops between them. There was really no need for order now; they just had to focus on getting there as soon as possible.

Shang rode ahead silently on his white horse, fierce eyes looking over the mountaintops and plotting out the trail in his head. Ping couldn't help but watch those eyes. He'd never seen anyone with such an intense stare before; it seemed like he could see past everything else, right down to what you were thinking.

Mushu, of course, couldn't help but notice and smirked.

"Enjoying the scenery, Ping-A-Ling?"

Ping met his golden eyes and flushed, sharply turning his head away. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Shang tilted his head a bit and look at him. He snapped his focus back to the trail when Ping looked him in the eye.

Ping sighed and rubbed his face wearily. _He's doing it again_. Avoiding him. Acting strange. It made Ping feel irritated and a little angry. He really wished Shang would be a little more blunt about what his problem was with him; one day it seemed Shang was asking his opinion on everything, the next he couldn't get near the captain.

_Maybe he's mad at me for the whole water basin incident,_ Ping thought, shaking a rock out of his boot. _But he laughed and we joked about it for days...and he's been showing me different strategies at weiqi, and helping me with swordhandling, and..._

Ping was so deep in worry that he didn't notice the approaching group of people until Ling jabbed him with his elbow. Ping stopped with the rest of the men as a cart pulled by two oxen stopped. A tanned and wrinkled farmer in his straw hat walked towards Shang easily, his wife and children behind the cart of wheat.

Shang eyed him critically and dismounted his horse, taking the remaining few steps to meet the man. Chi-fu rode imperiously on his horse beside him, nose high in the air. The farmer bowed and said something out of reach of Ping's ears; Shang replied, and Ping could tell by the set of his shoulders he was bothered. They continued talking until the farmer bowed once more and walked back to his family.

Shang returned to the men and announced, "Farmer Juu has graciously offered for us to camp at his farm just two miles from here for tonight. I expect you all to behave like disciplined soldiers and show nothing but courtesy towards his family."

His face looked like it was set in stone as they trudged the rest of the way to the farm, where the ample housing and barn helped to block them from the wind.

Setting up camp—the tents, the fire and serving the rice and water—went relatively smooth, even when the farmer's youngest son of ten came and watched them before being dragged back inside. After an hour, right as the sun was setting, the farmer entered camp with one of his daughters, her face turned down shyly. Ping felt a tug of familiarity make him look twice at her.

He was within hearing distance as he used a whetstone to maintain his blade while they talked.

"Thank you again for inviting us onto your land," Shang said politely but tightly. Ping raised an eyebrow and wondered why his captain hated staying on this amiable wheat farmer's property for a night.

The farmer smiled. "Well, I served in the army as well, you know. Under the great General Fa Zhou." Ping almost choked on his drink of water. "So I suppose having you young ones here is more of a nostalgia than real hospitality. Anyway," here he cut off and looked at his daughter, who had been sneaking more and more peeks at Shang as her father talked. "Mai, do you have something to say?"

"Well," she stuttered nervously, cheeks burning pink. That's when Ping remembered her and cried out without thinking, "You're that girl the bandits captured!"

All three turned to look at him, surprised. The daughter, Mai, clapped her hands together, her brown eyes bright. "Yes! And you..." she took step towards him, "you're the boy that set us loose from our bonds and saved my sister and I." She bowed so low her face was mere inches from the ground. Ping flushed and held up his hands helplessly.

"Well, I, it wasn't just—"

"You saved my daughters?" The farmer cried, throwing himself to the ground at Ping's feet. "Thank you! Thank you, sir!"

"W-wait! I," he glanced impotently at Shang for help and found him smiling softly, his eyes betraying amusement as they rested on Ping. The softness in those brown depths made Ping falter.

Shang's...

The farmer and daughter bowed again, but Ping only saw Shang, still smiling.

Special...

Mai picked a flower from their wilting cherry tree and kissed it, clasping it to his breast.

Someone.

Shang gave a little amused bow to Ping and escorted the pair away, glancing back at Ping as they walked.

_Me?_

No, it couldn't be. Not weak, scrawny, clumsy Ping. But he wasn't really weak any more, ever since training...now he had muscles, now he could fight...and he was the best at archery so he couldn't be _that_ uncoordinated.

His head spun and he didn't notice that Shang had returned until he snapped his fingers in Ping's blank face.

Shang laughed. "Well, 'Great Savior of the Farmer's Daughters', are you ready for rice and soup?" Ping just looked at Shang searchingly for a long time, unaware of the shivers it sent up the older man's spine. Shang was close to losing himself in those bottomless black depths that were Ping's eyes, close to running his hands all over that creamy skin and licking those utterly sinful lips.

Shang laughed again, nervously. "What?"

"Why didn't you tell them it was really you who saved them?" Ping asked.

Shang blinked and thoughtfully scratched his chin. "Well, what would I gain from seemingly trying to steal the glory from you? And besides it wasn't really me; you were the one to free the girls and, if I remember correctly, you killed three men to my two. You would've been fine without me. Chi-fu was right in saying I'm a poor excuse for an officer."

"That's not true!" Ping replied so fiercely Shang took a step back. "You're the best general there is; _no-one_ could've trained us better! Without you I'd still be the same scrawny, pathetic excuse for a man I was before I met you! I was nothing, I couldn't fight to save my life before you! You taught me how to fight and play weiqi and shoot and defend myself! I owe everything to you! _I'd be __lost__ without you_!"

Shang was silent as Ping finished, huffing for air and cheeks red with embarrassment and effort. He felt foolish now, standing in front of Captain Li Shang telling him what a great man he was.

Suddenly Ping felt his arm being pulled harshly by Shang as the captain led him out of camp and to the other side of the barn where more cherry trees were. "Uh," Ping protested dumbly as Shang stood in front of him, gazing down at Ping with a glint in his eye that made Ping...well, rather uncomfortable. But not in the way he expected.

Shang looked around and nodded to himself. "It's dark now, and the trees will help hide us."

"Hide us?" Ping asked. Shang returned his attention to Ping and took a large step closer, forcing Ping against the back of the barn. Ping gulped and licked dry lips. Shang followed every movement of that tongue and place one wide hand on the barn wall next to his head, leaning down to where he was eye-level with the shorter male.

"I dream about you," he stated lowly, finding secret pleasure in watching Ping's incredible eyes slide open wider. "I can't stop thinking about you, watching you, going near you, and it pisses me off. It pisses me off because you have no idea what you're doing to me. Even now, I don't think you fully understand the effect you have."

He grasped Ping's right wrist and carefully twisted it around so that his palm was facing up. Shang guided his hand to brush against the front of his tunic, feeling his hard length.

Ping whimpered and tried to hide his face. Shang gently grabbed his chin with his other hand and tilted his face up, looking him in the eye as he kept Ping's hand there.

"You see? I've never had someone excite me so much. I've never met someone like you. I want," Shang let go of Ping's hand and shifted closer to where their bodies were almost touching, hand braced against the barn once more. His face was so close, Shang could see each thick eyelash and feel his breath, coming quick and deep.

Shang's face drifted closer, their lips almost brushing. He felt Ping shudder. "I want..."

"Captain!"

Yao's voice broke the trance and Shang snapped his head up with a growl and answered, "I'm behind the barn, Yao, and I need my privacy at the moment." His arms tightened around Ping who tried to muffle a gasp by burrowing his face into Shang's chest. "What is it?"

"Sir, the cart carrying the canons caught fire without any obvious reason. Two are damaged, but the rest have been transported."

Shang let out an annoyed sigh. "Very well, keep the remaining canons sheltered and wait for further orders."

"Yes, sir."

Ping heard the leaves and twigs snap as the heavy-set man walked away. Shang drew back and fixed his tunic, Ping keeping still. Shang bent forward and brushed a hair out of his eyes.

"Ping? Are you alright?"

Ping looked at him and gave a self-conscious smile. "I...I'm...disappointed..."

Shang stared for a second and then let out a small laugh. He clasped his hands on either side of Ping's cheeks and leaned in, pressing their lips together ever so softly, hesitantly.

That's where gentle ended.

Shang growled again in the back of his throat, a lusty sound that made Ping whimper again and grasp Shang's tunic like a safety line. The force on their mouths intensified with Shang licking and sucking as though he were trying to drink Ping in. Ping felt his legs turn to mush and Shang's arm snaked around him, holding him up and turning him on like crazy with his strength.

After a minute they pulled away, Shang looking at him with open want on his face. Ping let out a sigh and ran a thumb over Shang's cheek shyly.

"The tr-troops..."

Shang muttered some curse about the troops and gently set Ping on the ground.

"We'll finish this later," he promised in a breathy voice and planted a kiss on Ping's forehead. Ping blushed even brighter and watched him go grudgingly. When he was gone Ping drew in his legs and placed his finger on his lips. He tingled in every place that Shang had touched him.

"Very interesting," said a familiar voice above him. Ping looked up and saw Mushu laying on a limb in a cherry tree, pretending to be interested in one of the silvery blooms. He jumped to his feet.

"How long have you been there?"

Mushu mulled it over and answered, "Well, there was that time when I walked by and just happened to notice you and pretty boy going behind the barn, and then there was that other time I left to do something...now what was it..."

It struck Ping like lightning bolt.

"You started that fire."

"Did I?"

"To draw Shang away."

It was so dark out that all Ping could see of him now was a pair of glowing gold orbs and his silhouette. It seemed to bristle. Ping stomped his foot and raised his voice. "Didn't you?"

"Maybe."

"Why?"

Mushu blinked slowly, and for the first time, Ping felt like maybe he had underestimated his guardian. "Because I swore to help you bring honor to the Fa family. And that's exactly what I'm going to do."

Suddenly he was gone and Ping felt something _huge_ and scaly wrap around him, pinning his arms. He bit back his cry of alarm and went limp as two golden orbs the size of his head looked at him. A break in the clouds let the moon shine on the form of Mushu fifty times larger than he had been previously all around him, his body serpent-like and thick as a tree trunk. His head was the size of Ping's torso and elegantly whiskered. His fangs showed as he spoke, his voice much deeper.

"You realize that a man being with another man is, of course, forbidden in the Imperial City. It is a sin. And if you two were exposed..." Giant Mushu shook his head slowly, tapping his three elongated claws on one foot, "Your father would be crushed. Humiliated. Your mother would be defaced, and your entire lineage would go up in flames. And what's worse; I would be labeled as a failed guardian. I can_not_ allow that to happen."

His squeezing grasp slackened and Mushu seemingly disappeared. Ping looked around in the cool night air, angry and a little frightened, but all he saw were falling cherry blossoms.


	5. Stained Paper

Ping was in trouble. He knew it, and yet he did not panic. One reason was that it was too beautiful a night to worry about his family being dishonored, or getting his own head shot though with an arrow during a battle, or his father stoning him to death. Instead, he sat by his lonesome outside of the camp (past regulated hours), and watched the unmoving, cold stars.

He blamed Fuu.

Growing up, Ping was shy, quiet, and insecure about his size. The other boys—and even the girls his age and older—teased him and left him out of every game they played. The boys would throw sticks and stones at him, and call him names. This was how Ping attained his climbing skills; he would simply scurry up the nearest tree, perching so high up the others dare not try to reach him.

One day he was chased to a large pear tree in full bloom and clawed his way to a comfortable fork in the thick branches where he waited out the boys' teasing and abusing fists. Usually he would sit (or lay or lean or stand/lean) quietly and study the clouds, or pick various leaves and debris to make is own birdnest or crown.

Even after this particular group of boys had long since left, Ping stayed in the tree, sulking. He watched a pair of sparrows interact before flying off into the very blue sky.

"Hey, kid."

His entire body jumped and he just barely caught himself from falling. He looked behind him and up towards the top to see a slightly older boy staring down at him. The first thing Ping noticed were his foreign green eyes and curly black hair, giving him an alien appearance (at least to Ping he looked like an alien). The second was the squirrel on his shoulder, fidgeting with a nut.

The alien crossed his arms defiantly. "This is my tree. No one else is allowed up here but Tintin." Ping assumed the squirrel was Tintin.

"I-I'm sorry," Ping stammered out. "I—"

It was then that he saw the large book tucked under the alien's arm and the ink smudges on his fingers. Ping tilted his head to the side. "Were you drawing?"

The strange boy narrowed his eyes warily. "Yes….so?"

Ping fidgeted uncomfortably. "What were you drawing?"

The alien pursed his lips and slowly lowered himself to Ping's level, just a branch away. "Why do you care?"

"Uh…no reason….I just like art, I guess."

The boy let out a thoughtful hum and handed Ping the book. Ping nervously took it and opened it to the first page.

Fuu was a fantastic artist. Sketching, drawing and painting were his strong suits. He enjoyed drawing streams and puddles the most, but also captured many animals—mostly birds and dogs—on paper.

He took Ping to all his favorite spots to sit and draw; they were usually secluded and out of town, and Ping realized that he must be alone a lot. Just like him.

Ping found out that his real name was Fuujin Toji, but he made his parents call him Fuu. His parents were craftsman that could make or fix anything from a shoe sole to a horseshoe to a prized teapot. They moved around annually, and found Fuu one cloudy morning while in Mongolia, in the remainders of a raid on a village. They wagered that by now Fuu was about thirteen years of age—just two more than Ping.

Fuu was very talkative—he even got Ping to talk about his fascination with animals and puzzles, and watched in wonder whilst Ping solved a tangram puzzle in just a few minutes. He then provoked Ping to laugh when he threw the rings down in frustration and stalked away.

One summer evening, while they were relaxing after a day of swimming, Ping asked Fuu why he seemed so sad. Fuu didn't answer, just slowly turned his head towards Ping and gave his eyes a searching, quizzical stare.

In an instant his lips connected with Ping's, his hands on Ping's shoulders. Ping was frozen, and didn't move or breathe. After a few seconds Fuu drew back and studied the younger boy's face. He moved in to do it again.

Ping snapped out of his trance and whipped his fist back, slapping it across

Fuu's face, hard. In that heartbeat he felt both awful about striking his friend but also relieved that he had a chance to stand, spin on his heels, and run away. He heard Fuu calling his name, but confusion made him run straight home and to bed, where he declined any dinner on account of a bad stomachache.

The next three days Fuu came to his house every morning and evening, but Ping always managed to avoid him by climbing out the window and hiding. He didn't dare tell his mother or grandmother what had happened.

One day, Fuu didn't come. Ping felt strangely disappointed and walked to his house to peek in the window.

It was completely empty. No tables, no mats, no tools or work benches. He found out later that they had moved to another town were business was better. After Fuu left, Ping tried to draw the same stream Fuu always did.

His tears kept making the lines all runny.

***Clears throat* I only did this because this is the only work that I actually keep getting reminded of. Expect another chapter next weekend. Maybe. **


	6. Old Flames, New Fires

The fire was found to be an accident. The soldiers couldn't find any matches or flints near the cart to start the fire, meaning that perhaps one of the canons had spilled some powder and resulted in a small explosion.

But Ping knew better.

The next morning after Mushu's interruption (to which Ping could feel his ears burning whenever he remembered it) he found the small dragon preparing himself a breakfast of field mice and rice.

"Morning, Pingy boy!" Mushu greeted in his usual cheery and sarcastic way. "The chef mad tofu noodles for breakfast today! You better hurry before that big boy Chien-Po gets to the pot!"

Ping just stared through narrowed eyes. Mushu stopped sprinkling spice over his mice and met his eye.

"Something wrong, Fa Ping?"

Ping held his stare steadily. "Nothing at all, Guardian Mushu."

Ping grabbed his tunic and under armor and got dressed outside his tent. Everything seemed to go normal—tents were being put away, carts stocked up and supplies accounted for—when the farmer's younger sons came running up the dirt path, waving their arms.

The farmer and Shang went to meet them just as a small group of people—soldiers, by the looks of their armor and helmets—came moving up the path. Intrigued, Ping gathered around the Captain with the other men and listen to the twins boys talk in excited voices.

"It's the Jin Zai! The Jin Zai!"

"They're scouting around, looking for—"

"More volunteers for the war against the Mongolians and—"

"We were wondering if—"

"No," came their father's firm reply. "Both of you are too young. And your older brothers are already serving, remember?"

"The Jin Zai?" Ping asked Shang with raised eyebrows. Shang smiled and made Ping blush too easily.

"The Jin Zai is a group of soldiers put together by the traveling merchants of China who have been victimized by the Huns. They are quiet capable. They may be a valuable asset to us…"

He looked away as his talk faded, view focused thoughtfully on the approaching men. Shang's own men arranged themselves in formation and awaited their arrival. The group consisted of ten men, with one tall male out in front, a helmet covering his face.

Shang met them with a slight bow. The group came to a halt and the man in front stepped toward him and gave a lower how back. As he straightened up he removed his headdress, revealing dark, curly hair and bright green eyes.

Ping gave a start.

"Captain Shang, it is an honor to meet you. I am Fuujin Toji. My men are scouting this area for more recruits…but our efforts are failed, I'm afraid. Where are you off to?"

"My men and I are need out on the front. It seems our troops are being overwhelmed by the Hun forces. Where is your next station?"

Fuujin shook his head. "Our entire force has settled north, outside of Rin village. We are indecisive on our next move." He took out a rag and wiped the sweat off his brow. Ping studied his features extensively, noting his sharp chin, covered in stubble, how broad his face was and how his ears still slightly stuck out. "Personally, I'm all for heading out to the front…but there are three other captains to deal with."

Shang tapped his chin. "Do you think that a few words from me might convince them otherwise?"

Fuujin grinned. "I think that would serve to be an impassable argument for them."

"I've never seen the captain hit it off with someone so quickly," Ling commented, startling Ping.

Ping shrugged. He felt the need to greet a long-lost friend conflicting with his shy attribute, feeling a strange sense of nervousness. What happened between Fuu and him was a long time ago, and yet Ping felt the betrayal and loneliness rising back up.

He made to get away right as Fuujin lifted his eyes to scan the men and landed on Ping, watching him from afar.

Ping watched as his expression went from confused to surprise to absolutely overjoyed. Ping felt rooted in place as Fuu pushed past Shang and exclaimed, "Ping!"

The boyish smile he was sporting made Ping smile back and take a few steps forward to meet him. He waved sheepishly. "H-hello, Fuu."

He was not prepared for the running tackle that came after that.

Fuujin lifted him up in a bear hug and talked fifty miles a minute as Shang and the other men watched, jaws dropped.

"Fuu, FUU!" Ping yelled as he laughed. Fuu had gotten much taller. "Put me down, you idiot!"

When he finally did, indeed, place Ping back on the ground, Shang had quietly joined them. "So you two know each other?" He asked dryly, earlier friendliness gone. Ping felt unease at the captain's tone.

"Ping and I go way back," Fuu informed him brightly, his eyes never leaving Ping's face. "We lived in the same village for a while before I moved away and…oh, never mind that! So tiny Ping joined the army, hm? Well, captain, how is he as a soldier? He always had great aim when we threw rocks at the fish. And the heights this boy could climb to, amazing! He made the birds jealous!"

He would have kept chattering if one of his men hadn't stepped forward awkwardly to say, "Er, sir, the others are expecting us by nightfall…we should leave soon…"

Fuu waved his hand impatiently. "Yes, yes. You're right." His silly smile had vanished and he turned to Shang with the same air of aloof authority as before. "Well then, Captain Shang, shall we head off? We know how to get back to our base without passing through the slow towns and farming fields."

Shang's voice was tight as he replied, "Lead the way, Captain Fuujin."

"Please, call me Fuu!" He winked at Ping. "We'll have to catch up later, Ping."

He turned and walked away, calling out orders. Ping heaved a big sigh. "Suddenly I feel very tired," he remarked with a smile. He turned to look at Shang and found the older man watching him with an inscrutable expression. "W-what?"

Shang lowered his shoulders and gave his head a quick pat. "Nothing."

He too walked away, leaving Ping feeling confused and overwhelmed. He heard a chuckle from his tent and saw Mushu smirking, giving a small wave before disappearing.


	7. Before You Lose Yourself

**Short chapter. I get bored if I write for too long.**

The trek to Rin village had been stressful. For Ping. When he wasn't shrugging off smiles from Fuu, glances from Shang or a grin from Mushu, Ling and Yao were always there.

"So Ping," Ling hung one lanky arm around the shorter male's shoulders as Yao walked on his left, "tell us about this Fuu guy. He a friend of yours?"

Ping held back a sigh. "You…could say that. He lived in my village for a while before moving on with his nomadic parents. We did have some fun times together as kids." _And we kissed, but no-one really needs to know that._

Yao grunted. "He looks like a cocky one to me. And what's with those eyes?"

"Maybe he's a changeling."

Ping picked up his ears. "A what?"

Ling turned serious. "A changeling. I've heard tales that when the Huns invaded the north, they would leave children and mothers with no home or husband. And so, the widows would take their children to a protected village and steal another woman's child, replacing it with her own infant and taking the wife's child with them. The children that were given a new home were called changelings, and had green eyes and were able to talk with animals and spirits."

Ping snorted and shrugged off Ling's arm. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've heard yet. Changelings aren't real things. Besides, his foster parents never _had _a child. Though they did find Fuu in a deserted town up north."

"Maybe it's witchcraft."

"Maybe his _parents had green eyes._" Ping argued in a mocking voice.

Ling raised his hands peacefully. "All I'm saying is, he looks funny with those eyes and that hair."

Ping narrowed his eyes. "Maybe you shouldn't worry about how a man looks and instead focus on how he _acts._"

He quickened his pace and gained a distance from the trio, feeling irritated. So what if Fuu _looked _different? So he didn't have straight hair and brown eyes like most did. Ping only knew Fuu for a handful of time, but he had learned enough about him to know that he was, at heart, a wholesome, selfless person, if a bit too carefree at times.

"I know what this is really about," an inhuman whisper sounded in his ear and he stiffened.

"What do you want, Mushu?"

"You see yourself in him. You two are the same."

Ping tried to get a glimpse of the tiny dragon hiding in his armor but found that it would look strange if he were to start conversing with his shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"Think about it, Pingy. He's probably gotten as much strife for those eyes and hair as you have for your…well, less-than-manly attributes." Ping could hear Mushu sharpening his claws. "He might prove to be your best ally when you need someone to watch your back."

"Maybe," Ping muttered, craning his neck to get a faraway look at Fuu riding next to Shang on his spotted horse. "But Shang is—"

"_Shang,_" Mushu interrupted, "is your captain, a noble blood, and a high-standing citizen. You really believe that the two of you could have a future together?" Mushu ignored Ping's bashful sputtering and stormed on. "What do you think is going to happen, hm? That when, and if, the two of you make it out of the war, you'll meet up in his chambers and spend your days together?

"Let me lay it out for you, Ping. Saying that you both survive, he will go on to work for the emperor's army, marry a chosen women and settle down with a family. You will return home and pine about what could have been as you help your mother in the marketplace, eventually get pressured into marrying a girl of your standing, and forced into having kids.

"There's no good ending to this ridiculous little affair. You should end it before you lose yourself."

So saying, Ping felt him slither out of his clothes and sneak back into the carriage.

Ping suddenly felt very cold, and he didn't think it was the altitude.


	8. Stand Tall Like a Mountain

The trek had been steady, if somewhat tense. The platoon kept a respectable distance from the Jin Zai soldiers, and in return the Jin Zai stayed quiet and stoic.

Except for one.

"So, Ping, how're your parents? Your old grandmother, in particular." Fuu chatted on, clueless about the icy daggers Shang threw him. Fuu had insisted that Ping travel beside him at the front of the line in order to talk with him. "I always liked that women. She had a tongue like a knife, I'll tell you what."

"Yes, she's…good. Still her old self, and all that," Ping shifted uncomfortably on Khan as Mushu coiled around his neck. "A few months ago she practically threw an old geezer out of our store single-handedly without even touching the man." A smile came over his face. "He tripped out the door and fell into a cart of manure in front of a gaggle of girls."

Fuu returned a foxlike grin. "Your grandmother did always say that shitty men should smell the part."

Ping was unaware of the visible vein forming on Shang's temple as the pair's laughter reached his ears.

Said captain turned his head and gave Fuu a steady glare.

"Captain Fuu. How far till we reach our destination?"

"It should be just over this peak," Fuu replied, raising a hand to shield his eyes against the white glare of the landscape. Though they were far from the top or any altitude that restricted their breath, the snow was thick and the air was much colder than it had been on Juu's land.

Ping shivered a bit as the wind and rubbed his arms, wondering why no-one had thought of lining their armor with fur. Shang noticed.

"Keep steady, Fa Ping. Shelter is before us."

As their horses crested the rise Ping could see the outline of a small town, picking out individual houses short and sturdy against the frosty gale.

"Yes, Captain," Ping answered diligently, trying to hide the warmth or friendliness from his voice. If Fuu's raised eyebrow was anything to go by, he did a poor job of it.

Rin village was a small town, even smaller than the one Ping grew up in. As the branch of the army moved down the main trail Ping cast wary eyes on the few people still living there. He saw no women, no children under the age of army acceptance, no "deadweight" as most army officials called it.

The group halted outside the northern point of the village, where a steep incline made a natural wall against most of the wind. Tents of grey were set up in a circle, one large pavilion situated in the center. Numerous carts and carriages were strewn about, some broken, some empty and a few filled with weaponry and other supplies.

The captains dismounted and two young villagers took their horses. Fuu nodded at Ping and the keeper of the other horse in their squad, motioning to the boys.

"Go ahead and give Daiyu and Fenfang your horses; they will be fed and groomed to the best of our capacity."

Ping felt uneasy just handing over Khan to strangers, but did as told and gave an affectionate pat to his head, murmuring in his ear and rubbing the spot over his nose.

He felt a strong hand on his shoulder and looked up at Fuu. "Don't worry," the dark-skinned soldier assured him, leading him to the pavilion, "he'll be well kept. I haven't forgotten your soft spot for animals," he teased, poking his cheek.

Ping swatted away his hand. "And I recall your disregard for personal space," he quipped back, rolling his eyes. Fuu suddenly stiffened, giving him a searching look, exotic jades glimmering with a hundred emotions.

"So…does that mean…you remember that time by the river?"

Ping froze, looking anywhere but his face. "I…I do," he got out slowly. Every fiber of his person wanted him to run, to escape, to fold in on himself. But then what had these past months been about? He wasn't the same shy, spineless cub that had fled from home with a death wish in his heart; he had grown, sharpened his claws and toughened his flesh to the life of a soldier, ready to pounce when his captain ordered, to hiss when his comrades needed his help.

He stood his ground and met Fuu's eye. "I do," he repeated. "And I wanted to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ran away, and I'm sorry I avoided you. I still," emotion caught in his throat. Fuu gave the few soldiers milling around them a withering glare and they left. Vaguely, he noted Captain Shang standing outside the tent, face turned away from the conversation but eyes unfocused. "I still thought of you as a friend after that. But I was scared."

Ping licked his lips and looked up at Fuu, who gave him a nod. "Keep going," he murmured.

"I was scared because I had never been touched like that," he felt his cheeks heat up but ignored it, _o Gods just ignore it, _"and because that kind of act between two males is looked down on. I was just…scared. And now," he stood taller, filling his lungs and forcing his voice up, "I'm not scared anymore. Not of myself, anyway. I can tell you, Fuu, that I'm…" _o Gods, I'm what? In love? Infatuated, head over heels? _

Yet again a warm hand landed on his shoulder. Fuu wore a bittersweet smile as he said, "That's more than enough, Ping. We'd better get moving," he gave a friendly squeeze to his arm and started walking towards the pavilion as another squad wearing the Jin Zai colors approached. He tilted his head down at the shorter male and winked.

"We wouldn't want Captain Shang worrying about you any more than necessary, would we?"

Ping's eyes grew to comical proportions and he sputtered.

"W-what are you—"

"Come along, Fa Ping," Shang yelled from his post outside the tent, authority seeping into his voice. Ping felt even his neck go red when Mushu started chuckling against it.


	9. Force of a Raging Fire

**[I only proof-read this once, so there are probably errors. Again, this is rated M for a reason.]**

Shang dragged the damp cloth over his face and brushed his loose hair through with his fingers. He laid back on his cot and stared at the top of his tent, recounting the day's events.

The meeting with the four captains of the Jin Zai had gone considerably well. Though he hated to give that lanky, dark-skinned bright-eyed idiot any credit, Fuujin had done well to back him up and persuade the Jin Zai in joining him on their trek to the front.

Seeing this strange man just run up and _lift Ping off the ground _in a hug, like he _owned _him, did more to his psyche than he'd like to admit to himself. Shang tried to fight down the overwhelming wave of possessiveness that hit him when he thought about their history.

History? Shang didn't even know if they _had _much history. Fuujin had mentioned something about living in the same village before he moved away—so they were just friends, nothing more. Right?

Then again, what if something _did _happen between them? What if they were in a tent somewhere right now, picking up where they left off?

Shang growled and pulled on a shirt, swiping his tent's flap open and stalking out into the night air. All around him were groups of Jin Zai and his own soldiers, pouring over maps and checking their weapons.

It was when he rounded a cluster of tents that he saw the circle of men surrounding a hidden pair of people in its center. Shang frowned and pushed forward until he reached the front of the circle, watching the sight before him unfold.

Fuujin had his sword raised at chest-level, pointing at his opponent a few steps away.

Shang felt a surge of panic when he saw Ping return the gesture with his familial sword.

"What is going on here?" He demanded, stepping out into the ring. Fuu and Ping looked at him, surprised.

"I wanted to see how Ping's training has come along," Fuu answered breezily. He glanced at the smaller male. "You agreed to it to, didn't you, Fa Ping?"

Ping nodded with a nervous look at Shang. "I did agreed to it, Captain."

Shang held his eye for a good moment before sighing and waving his hand at them. "Then, please, continue. But refrain from inflicting serious injuries on one another."

Ping's black eyes lit up and he got into stance, matching his pace as they circled each other. Calls came from the spectators as the participants warmed up.

"Alright, Captain Fuujin!"

"Watch out, Ping!"

Shang watched at the two sized each other up, the stern, focused look on Ping's face clashing with Fuu's foxlike grin. They started circling for a few moments as the men around them whooped and hollered. Beside him, Shang heard the murmurings of a few Jin Zai.

"That boy's going to get his fingers chopped off," one gruff man told his companion. "No one's ever beaten Captain Fuujin. That little pipsqueak's going to get his ass handed to him."

Shang silenced him with a glacial glare.

"Guess I'll start us off," Fuu said loudly, winking at the smaller male before lunging forward, blade jutting out. Ping sidestepped it and parried the blow with his sword, feet a flash as he spun in a low circle and brought his sword around, landing a solid hit on Fuu's armored back.

Fuu stumbled and caught himself, grin gone and eyes wide with surprise. The men were silent for a moment before their shouts doubled in intensity, hands waving and fists pumping. Shang felt himself smiling.

Fuu stood back up and faced Ping again. The black-eyed man watched him carefully, sword raised in a protective stance. Fuu flexed his shoulders.

"Get him, Captain!"

"Knock his scrawny ass down!"

Fuu took a breath and squared his shoulders. "That was a warm up," he told them all. Ping cracked a dry smile.

"If you say so, _Fuu._"

Shang felt a rush at the cheeky, playful tone in his voice. Fuu gave a toothy chortle and approached him once more.

"Alright, bean sprout. Let us see you do that again."

Fuu made another swipe, bringing his sword down in an arc; Ping blocked it and for a moment they pushed their blades against each other, neither gaining any ground until Ping was forced to take a step back.

As he stepped back Ping gripped his hilt and slid his blade up and away from Fuu's, causing the taller to fall forward a bit before recapturing his balance. By that time Ping had rolled back into a crouch, bracing his back foot against a stone set in the ground and pushing off, catching Fuu off guard and flying at him.

Fuu was barely able to parry his blow and regained his ground, finding it harder than he had anticipated to keep up with Ping's swift, precise strikes. Their blades sang out in sharp pitches as they battled against each other, Fuu gaining a step or two only to lose it when Ping managed to maneuver around him.

At one point Fuu managed to parry his hit off to the side, bringing in his sword and pushing it out in a jab; Ping met it with his own and for a moment steel danced around steel in an endless cycle.

It ended when Ping managed to dislodge the hilt from Fuu's hand and sent his sword bouncing along the ground. Ping held his weapon up and breathed heavily. The crowd fell silent.

It was Ling that popped up and broke the tense air. "Way to go Ping!"

All the soldiers from Shang's brigade stood and cheered as Ping stood dumbly still, arms falling and stance relaxing back into a natural stand. He met Shang's gaze and smiled, walking over to Fuu's sword and picking it off the ground.

He walked back over and offered it back to Fuu, almost embarrassed.

"Your sword, sir," Ping looked down dejectedly. Fuu let his head fall back and a hearty laugh poured from his mouth. He turned to his men.

"See here, men! This is the imperial army that we will work with! These men are skilled and trained, yet behold the humility they possess!" He took his sword and gave Ping a swift bow. "You've been trained well," he said quietly, only to Ping.

Ping stole another look at Shang and fought down the blush that wanted to well up when his captain nodded at him, traces of pride in his usually stoic features. Fuu slung an arm around Ping's shoulders and raised his sword to the sky.

"Men! Tonight you should drink, eat and make merry, for tomorrow we leave for the glory of battle!"

The sea around him roared and rippled as pledges and calls of loyalty thundered through the air. Ping was pushed to his comrades who greeted him with affectionate punches and headlocks and gruff praises.

Around him all Ping could see were open, accepting faces and a broad, warm one that out shone the others like the sun outshone the stars. Before he could gravitate towards his captain he was herded into the pavilion for food and spirits.

For the first time in his life, Ping didn't feel like a complete outsider.

Where he walked, he received slight nods of approval and friendly, or at least warm, smiles. Men kept coming up to him and requesting him to spar. Ping declined as politely as he could, insisting that Fuujin had taken it easy on him.

When they tried to invite him into another tent he stumbled over his tongue a bit.

"Come on," the Jin Zai soldier insisted. "We've got a flagon of distilled beer and oranges from a recent shipment. It'll just be a few of us."

He was too close for comfort, hand stretched out in a welcoming gesture. Ping gave a slight bow.

"I'm very sorry sir, but I am quite tired…" Shang's tent was _right there, _only a few meters away. "I think it best that I retire to my cot."

"Oh, come now, Fa Ping," he insisted, gently grasping his wrist. Ping frowned and opened his mouth to argue farther when a familiar voice sounded behind him.

"Fa Ping, there you are." The soldier instantly let go of Ping's arm and stood up straight. "You were supposed to report to my tent straight after dinner." His gaze zeroed in on the soldier. "Is there something you needed from my soldier?"

The soldier gulped and gave a swift salute, exclaiming "No, sir!" and hurrying off. Shang shifted his attention to Ping, his expression softening to a small smile that was almost shy.

Shang cleared his throat. "Ping, that was…uh, you were—you fight good," he told him, his hand coming down awkwardly on his shoulder and cheeks colored under the pale moonlight.

"Oh," Ping returned, his face visibly falling. "Thank you, sir."

A beat of tense silence filled the space between them and Shang gave a conflicted groan, hand dragging down over his face. "Ping, I need you to come to my tent. Or, I mean, _would _you come to my tent?"

Ping bit his lip. "Of course, Captain."

Shang swiftly led him to his tent, tying the flap close and lighting the oil wick.

For a moment they stood awkwardly, Shang struggling to find what needed to be said and Ping wondering how he should act. The memory of their kiss under the blossoms burned on both their minds.

"How are you?" Shang asked somewhat lamely.

"I'm…fine," Ping answered with a questioning look at his captain. Shang groaned again and sat down heavily on his cot.

"Ping, I have to be honest with you." Ping waited patiently, hands fidgeting. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

Ping felt his mouth go dry and sat on his knees a few feet away from the man in front of him. It was a rare sight to see the strong, confident Captain Shang in such a state of self-doubt. "Sir, I think you're doing a great job as captain—"

"_Not about that," _he snapped, sighing and rubbing at his temple. "I'm sorry. I'm not talking about being captain. I mean I don't know what I'm doing about," his voice failed him and he opted for making a frantic gesture between them.

"Oh," Ping supplied unhelpfully. He shifted his weight from knee to knee, looking down. "Well, what is it you want to do?"

He could feel the captain's stare burning holes into him as he pondered the question. Shang's voice was quiet but landed like canon fire on Ping's ears.

"I want to kiss you again."

Ping closed his eyes and took a deep breath as a tingling sensation overtook him.

"I want to claim you as mine." His voice had dropped an octave, making Ping shiver. "And I want you to claim me."

"Then why don't you?" Ping asked, his whisper broken and flighty. He looked up at Shang to find the older watching him with an entranced expression, features highlighted by the fire light.

"Because." A pause. "We're both men. I've never…I wouldn't know how…" He struggled to explain himself, testing the words out on his tongue. "I've been taught that it's disgusting. That it's an abomination. But it doesn't feel like that when I'm with you."

Ping was pretty sure his heart was about to bust out of his chest from the way it was slamming against his ribcage. The way Shang was looking at him, the way his voice was crossed between need and confusion—it was doing extraordinary things to him.

Without thinking Ping stood up and walked over to his captain, falling back to his knees and looking down at his face with a questioning smile. He brought his hand up to cub his strong jaw and tilt up his head, Shang's golden brown eyes wide with surprise. Ping forced himself to stop biting his lip and leaned down, hesitantly pressing his lips against Shang's.

Shang returned it immediately, hand moving up to thread through his hair. Their lips parted and Ping felt a foreign presence swiping along his lip. Shang angled his head and their kiss grew heavy, tasting each other's breath. Ping slumped down, knee resting on his cot and arms drooped over his shoulders.

Shang's other hand slipped around his waist and brought him down onto his lap, traveling down to boldly grab at Ping's rear.

Ping moaned into his Shang's mouth and they both froze. Ping swatted a hand over his mouth and looked down, face lit with embarrassment. "I—I'm sorry," he started to apologize when Shang grabbed his arm and twisted around, gently slinging Ping against his covers and hovering over him, a predatory glint in his gaze.

Shang felt like he was drifting in every direction at once. Snippets of thoughts drifted through his head at blinding speeds; he wanted Ping to make more of those glorious noises, wanted to see him without his tunic, wanted to feel him pressed against his body until they exploded together.

He couldn't speak as he lowered himself and caught Ping's pouty, flushed lips in an intense kiss, all earlier restraint gone. His hands moved down and pulled at Ping's clothes, feeling him arch up under his treatment.

Their mouths disconnected with a sloppy pop and Ping was gasping for breath, drawing in shuddering breaths as Shang left hot marks down his neck, licking at his collarbone and grabbing at Ping's hips. His calloused fingers dug into his skin and slid up his sides, palm accidently brushing over a nipple.

Ping let out another low moan and Shang looked up, taking in his flushed face and blown eyes, strands of hair falling from his bun.

"Do—do you feel good here?" He asked roughly, swiping his finger against the same spot. Ping shivered and nodded.

"It kind of…tickles," he got out.

Shang licked his lips and Ping's eyes widened at the sight, head falling back as Shang pressed a chaste kiss against the nub, mouthing words over the sensitive flesh. He didn't really know what to do, so he closed his eyes and let his mouth just do as it would. His mouth opened and his nipple was enveloped in the heat of Shang's mouth, tongue rolling against it and flicking out from time to time.

Beneath him Ping was reduced to a mewling, squirming mess, hands on his head and mumbling praises under his breath. When Shang gently nibbled Ping had to bite back a shout and his pelvis arched up. Shang groaned at the friction and rubbed against him, rolling his hips against Ping's and catching the whines the smaller made with his mouth.

"Ping," Shang groaned into his ear. Ping made a guttural sound in response and started grinding against him with new fervor.

"Shang, your shirt. Off. Please," he breathed out. Shang gave a smirk and straightened up, keeping a knee pressed against Ping's hot point. He untied his belt and let the tunic fall off his shoulders, feeling a warmth in his chest expand as Ping eyes his form greedily.

Shang kneaded his knee into his groin teasingly, his ego blowing up as Ping shuddered against him, lifting his hips and moving in circles. The sight was glorious to Shang's eye.

"So beautiful," he muttered, diving back down for another kiss. His senses were being overrun by Ping, his ears filled with his held back moans, his eyes unable to focus on anything else, his mouth tasting of sweat and skin. The hardness that pressed against his leg was something he both wanted to deal with but was also nervous about.

He gulped and hooked a finger under his waistband, slowing pulling it down. He watched at the bulge in his undergarment come into view, a spot of wetness found on the front. Shang held Ping's eye and pulled down his underwear, watching for any sign of discomfort.

Ping's arousal sprung from its confines, flushed and curving up towards his stomach, a few drops of excitement on its head. Shang couldn't stop staring until Ping made a self-conscious noise, covering his eyes.

Shang took a breath. He tried to recount the few times he'd succumb to his own urges, wrapping his fingers around the pink head. Ping gasped and his thighs started twitching. "Shang," he whimpered, reaching out to his captain's pants and pressing the heel of his palm against the heat he found there.

Shang cursed and bucked forward into his hand. "Let me t-touch you too."

Shang wet his lips and found he had to stand up in order to shimmy out of his pants, somehow feeling pleasantly exposed. He resumed his position and squeezed Ping's length experimentally, taking in his reactions.

He gripped the base of Ping's arousal, sliding up in one fluid motion and finishing with a twist of his fingers. Ping tried to stop himself from lurching up into Shang's hand and failed, panting at that friction. He tried to mimic Shang's ministrations, pumping him in steady, firm strokes that made his toes curled.

In a rush of boldness Ping leaned up and licked at his captain's neck, suckling the warm flesh. Shang cursed again and doubled his efforts, Ping's length becoming slicker the faster he pumped, his moans traveling up his neck into his ear.

Ping moved to using both hands, one squeezing his base while the other rubbed a nail along the slit. Shang stuttered and kissed him harshly, hard enough to leave bruises. They broke apart when Ping started moving harder against him, pace becoming frantic and losing tempo.

After another moment of needy grinding Ping's hips stilled and his mouth dropped open in a silent shout, a shudder running through his entire body. He came onto his own stomach and shivered as he cooled off. Shang didn't move as he watch him catch his breath, head leaning against his brawny shoulder.

Ping came out of his haze and looked up at Shang, giving a shy smile. Shang gave a gentle kiss and Ping pulled away, glancing at his still erect length. "Um," he stated, reaching for it. Shang stopped his hand and held it in his own, kissing his knuckles.

"It's okay, Ping. You don't have to."

Ping blinked before a determined pout came over his face and he slipped out of Shang's grasp, steeling himself as he used his hands to part his (_thick, solid) _thighs. He ignored Shang's protest and gave a tentative lick. Shang's breath grew heavy and his hands found his hair, giving an encouraging tug.

Ping placed kisses up and down his length, courage perking up when Shang started muttering his name as his fingers harshly massaged his ears and scalp. After a deep breath he opened his mouth and placed the head of his length on his tongue, the feeling of having something so thick and warm in his mouth foreign.

Shang stiffened up and curved over him, fingers anchored in his hair as he started to move. He bobbed his head down, taking in only half his length before he started gagging and pulled back, breathing hard and lips wet.

"Ping," Shang struggled to speak coherently, "really, you don't need to."

"I want to," he insisted, settling back in between his legs. In truth, he had no clue how to proceed—he tried to remember what he'd heard in the mess hall, how the other men would swap tales that made his cheeks warm.

He inserted Shang back into his mouth and hallowed his cheeks, giving a suck. Shang hissed and continued rubbing his nails soothingly against his hair. He alternated between licking and sucking, moving his mouth to the underside of his head and grabbing a bit of skin in his teeth, surrounding the pulsing flesh around it with his mouth and sucking hard.

Shang gave a shallow thrust against his mouth and he was coming onto Ping's cheek, swearing and praising as he fell back onto his cot. Ping wiped at the mess on his cheek and stared at the goopy, almost transparent white substance on his fingers.

Shang looked up and grabbed a cloth, handing it to him. Ping blushed and took it, wiping his hand and face clean. He moved on to his stomach and rubbed off the mess there, folding the cloth close and setting it on the ground.

Shang sat back up and kissed his cheek. "That was incredible," he murmured, brushing hair out of Ping's face and feeling his own face blush.

Ping's eyes lit up and he smiled. "That good?"

"Absolutely," he growled, swiping him up into a hug and resting his head in the crux of his shoulder and neck. Ping let him stay there for a while, taking the liberty of exploring his captain's back, tracing the dips and bumps and feeling them flex under his touch.

"Uh, Shang?"

"Hm?" He grunted. Ping fought back a laugh.

"Can I get dressed?"

"No," he answered, reaching back and grabbing his tunic and pants anyway. They both pulled their clothes back on, Shang opting to leave his chest bare as he pulled back his covers.

Ping stood questioningly by the door. "Do you want me to go, or—"

"Why would I want that?" He asked calmly, patting the space next to him. Ping grinned and left his tie on the table, sliding under the blanket next to him, unsure of what to do with his arms. Shang chuckled and turned on his side, motioning for Ping to do the same.

Ping started when a strong arm reached around his waist to rest there, another arm fitting snuggly under his neck. He could feel Shang's entire form pressed lightly against him, his breath gently hitting the back of his neck.

"Uncomfortable?" He asked, fingers tracing useless patterns on his waist

Ping shook his head. He suddenly felt incredibly tired, feeling Shang's heartbeat against his back. He yawned and Shang twisted away for a second to put out the wick.

"Good night, Ping."

"Night," he remembered saying before drifting off.

**[Pssst. Do you like Studio Ghibli? Ever seen Princess Mononoke or Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind? Guess who wrote a slash crossover for these two? Yep. Me, it was me. It's called "Guns and Arrows". Check it out if you want.]**


	10. Bloody Flowers

**[So there's conflict in this one? Well, more than usual.]**

Ping's eyes snapped open. He found himself ensnared in Shang's warm, thick arms, his face almost pressed against his captain's bare chest. For all the comfort and warmth that surrounded him, Ping felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and heart rate speed up for some unknown reason.

He wiggled out of Shang's grasp (blushing the entire time) and sat up, listening. Above the low rumble of Shang's snoring he heard the usual string of soft chatter outside the tent, along with the insects and birds of the night singing their nocturnal melodies. Still, this strange sensation in his gut continued and he gingerly got out of the cot.

After pulling on his shoes and readjusting his bun, Ping peeked out of the tent to make sure the coast was clear before exiting. The night air chilled him through his tunic and smelled sharp against his nose. Ping realized it had rained as he walked softly through damp grass and wondered how he hadn't noticed. Usually the rain woke him up through the deepest slumbers.

Then he recalled exactly what might have been hogging his attention during the rain and forced an image of Shang's flushed, pleasure-wrecked face out of his mind, attempting to brush the shivers off his arms.

Ping spotted Yao and Ling sitting by the fire at the northern entry of their camp, arms crossed and hands grasping their swords. Chien-Po stood a ways off, munching on something. Ping made his way over to them and greeted them heartily.

"Hiya, Ping! Where have you been?" Ling inquired good-naturally, looping his arm around Ping's shoulders. "I turn around for one second and you sneak away!"

"Oh, well, I was—um," Ping fumbled for an excuse.

"Hey," Yao saved him from answering as he delivered a friendly punch to Ping's arm. "That was impressive, taking on the Jin Zai captain like that."

"Yeah!" Ling agreed, sitting back down by the fire. "Did you see the look on that guy's face? I thought his eyes were gonna pop out!"

Ping chuckled along with them until his neck prickled again. He perked up and looked around, studying the horizon outlined in the pale glow of early dawn. The rest of the troops were just starting to stir for the day. Still, a sense of foreboding washed over him.

"You three were the night sentries, right?" He asked.

"Sure were," Yao grunted, scratching at his back. "My ass is as stiff and cold as Ling's sister."

"Hey," Ling warned with a grin.

"You didn't see anything…suspicious?"

Ling and Yao shared a look. "No," they answered.

Ping was about to inquire further when he heard it. Hoof beats, echoing off the mountain faces surrounding them. He ran over to Chien-Po, who was no longer eating the pear he had somehow acquired and squinting at the eastern woods a few leagues away.

"Chien-Po, you hear that?"

The bald man nodded, usual cheer gone. Ping felt like ice was running down his back as the beats grew louder, finally gaining attention of Ling and Yao. The two hopped up and ran to the watch tower, climbing up the wooden ladder to the deck.

It took only a few seconds for Yao to yell down, "Huns! We're under attack!"

Ping felt his gut drop and heart leap up into his throat, his pulse thrumming against his ears. It seemed to keep in time with the frantic tempo Ling started on the drum to warn the camp. His feet felt rooted to the spot as men emerged from their tents.

"How many?" Chien-Po asked.

"Looks about thirty, forty at best! All on horseback!"

Chien-Po took off towards the Jin Zai tent. "Alert Captain Shang!" He called over his shoulder.

_Right. Shang, Shang's tent, he'll know what to do._

He took off, catching himself from slipping on the slick grass as he dodged armored men rushing to the eastern side of camp. He threw open the tent flap to find Shang cursing as he pulled on his armor and boots.

His eyes snapped up to Ping. "Ping, what is the nature of the alarm?"

"Sir, a company of Huns approaching from the east! Sentry says a number of thirty to forty!"

Shang cursed again and belted his sword. "Get your armor on, soldier. Tell all you meet to gather at the entry."

Ping nodded, "Yes sir!"

"And Ping."

Ping paused and turned back to look at his captain. The sun had just peeked over the crest of the far off mountains, filling the tent with light. Shang's armor gleamed, eyes turning to amber pools in the glow.

"Please, be careful."

For all the terror and anxiety running through his veins, a warm burn bloomed in his chest that momentarily made him feel lighter. He gave Shang a smile and bowed, running off for his tent.

The warmth quickly subsided as he passed a group of confused soldiers from his brigade. "Huns! Coming from the east! Gather at the entry and prepare to engage!" He briefly relayed the order and sprinted on, informing every man he saw with a muddled face.

He finally reached his tent and commenced donning his own armor, trying to steady his shaking fingers. He felt a weight drop down onto his back and found Mushu perched on his shoulders.

"Mushu, there's—"

"Huns. I know. I spotted them while I was snacking on a bird in its nest." The small dragon skittered over to grab his helmet and brought it over to him. "I will ride into battle with you. It helps to have an extra pair of eyes."

Ping didn't respond as he slid on his helmet and ran out of his tent, Mushu clawing into his shirt to coil around his neck loosely.

"_JUMP BACK," _Mushu practically yelled into his ear.

Ping saw a flurry of movement in his peripheral and leapt back, narrowly missing being run over by a dark pelted horse. His breath caught as an arrow whizzed by his face, missing his nose by a millimeter.

The archer cursed and rounded a tent to double back.

_How could he get so far in the camp? _Ping wondered as he took cover behind an overturned table. _This is the south point. That means—oh, no. _

The archer was riding back at him, horse snorting and arrow nocked. Behind him three more men rode in over the crest of the hill bordering Rin Village.

_There's two companies! I have to warn the captain and the Jin Zai! _

He darted out from behind the table and rolled over to crouch on higher ground behind a nearby tent. The horsemen lost sight of him for a second and he took the opportunity to climb up the tree next to the tent, finding a fork and tensing his muscles in preparation.

"Ping, what in the heavens are you _doing?!" _Mushu hissed into his ear.

Ping ignored him and forced himself to breathe.

From his perch he watched two men circle back and disappear back from where they came, most likely to fetch the rest of their forces. The first archer spurred his horse forward, a bloodthirsty grin on his face.

Ping counted down in his head as the rider neared the tree and steeled himself. He drew his sword and lunged from his spot, exploding out of the leaves with his blade held steady in front of him at point.

The archer didn't have time to fight back as the tip of Ping's sword met his mark and sunk into his chest, both of them tumbling off the horse. Ping tucked his head and rolled up onto his feet, bouncing back to the body to retrieve his sword and mount his horse.

The stallion bucked at first, but after a steady hand Ping was able to lead him. He charged forward and spurred the horse to a gallop, spotting the mass of Jin Zai captains as they overlooked the battle raging on the plain at the bottom of the hill.

He rode over to Shang and Fuu standing next to each other, Fuu engaged in some heated argument with another Jin Zai captain. Ping remained atop the horse as he spoke. "Sirs! Another group of Huns approaching from the south!"

Shang turned to Fuu. "This isn't just an attack, Captain Fuujin. They mean to wipe us out! Cease bickering and come together or we're all doomed!"

Whatever Fuu was about to reply with was cut off when a stream of Huns emerged from the southern side of the camp.

The Jin Zai forces brandished their weapons and charged, emitting war cries. The two pools of men met in a clash of steel and arrows. Ping drew out his sword and prepared to follow them.

"Wait, Ping," Shang ordered. Fuu raised his helmet to speak clearly.

"We need you to follow Shang down into the main battle and tell troops to—"

With a yell a few Huns broke loose behind them and raced towards the captains. The Hun's face was contorted in a scowl as he charged.

Ping took off with his sword raised, blood roaring in his ears. He ducked, an arrow bouncing off his helmet and carried on. He registered a few soldiers flanking hm on foot, running just behind him.

At the last second before he and the first man met he veered his horse to the right, switching his sword to his left hand and hacking at the enemy horse's legs. He fell and he was replaced by another that Ping managed to slash in the chest. Ping thanked the ancestors for the Huns' lack of armor.

Ping circled around and managed to take down three more men until he felt a searing pain in his arm. He looked down to find an arrow lodged into his triceps.

"Arrows, three o' clock," Mushu growled.

Ping reared the horse back and made to gallop out of range when his horse gave an unearthly whinny and fell, blood-colored fletching sticking out of its neck and chest like grotesque flowers. Ping rolled into a crouch and hissed as his arm cried out against each movement. He felt warm blood trickling down his arm and reached around to feel the hard wooden shafted imbedded into his flesh.

He kept his eyes up, watching for any men attacking him as he wrapped his fingers around it and pulled. He couldn't stifle his yelp of pain as it tugged at his muscle and skin.

"No time to cry," Mushu hissed. "You've got company to your right. Might want to take cover with your buddies over there."

Ping hurried over to a group of his comrades fighting alongside the Jin Zai and took his place by two men he knew were named Jiang and Hui, taking turns slashing out only to take cover in the safety of their group.

Everywhere Ping looked there were thrashing limbs and blood stained blades gleaming in the early light as they hacked at flesh and bone. On the ground were bodies littered with arrows from both sides, and drowning out the fear in Ping's head was the yelling and groaning of men.

And then a shout was heard above the rest and in came Shang like a storm. He rode on his white and beige stallion with his cape flapping in the wind, shined helmet covering most of his face and cresting up from his forehead. In his hand he wielded his halberd like the reaper's scythe, cutting down those who opposed him like bamboo stalks.

The staff's long reach stopped anyone from getting too close while the small ring of soldiers around him raised their shiny shields to stop arrows from striking his horse. For an instant that lasted both a heartbeat and an eternity Shang lifted his head and their eyes locked just yards away on the battlefield.

Then Jiang let out a death scream and fell to the ground, grabbing at his side as an axe blade bit into his stomach. Ping whipped around and was just able to block another swing with his sword, the impact sending jarring twitches up his arms. His injured arm threatened to give and he bit his lip hard enough to taste his own coppery blood before pushing away.

"Behind you!" Mushu snarled.

Hui hacked at the attacker's arm and down he went until a stray arrow struck Hui in the eye. Ping fell back as an imposing man with his bow drawn back and targeted at his face loomed over him, grisly mouth curved in a condescending scowl.

Ping regained his footing and struck out with his sword, only for a boot to slam against his head like boulder. His vision flashed bright white and he fell to the ground, barely able to hear what the Huns were saying and wondering why no one was backing him up.

"…Fa family…you sure he's...killed Ganbaatar…grab him…"

He felt hands grab him without any mercy and throw him over a saddle. He tried to struggle and received another blow to the head that left his vision blurry and skull throbbing. He felt bile rise up and was unable to stop it from leaving his mouth.

He heard a muttered curse and panicked yelling before everything grew dark.

**[Shit's getting real.]**

**[so I've got a tumblr: fuck-its-marvel]**


	11. Like Father, Like Son

_He stood in a field. The sky was golden and soft clouds drifted by lazily. Ping took a few steps into the tall stalks of grain and ran his fingers over the silky tips, just like he would when he was a child. _

_Before him a figure suddenly appeared. Ping recognized the broad, plated back and scarlet cape billowing without wind. He tried to call out and found he couldn't make a sound, instead walking forward. _

"Ping."

_He stopped and turned around. His father stood there regally, wrinkles and crippled leg gone. He was tall, imperious in his stance. Ping tried to say something but once again words would not come from his throat. _

"You are a disgrace." _His voice was like terrible thunder in Ping's ears. _"Even the weakest daughter would be of an improvement. It is comical that such a spineless, weak fool could come from me. You would be better as feed for the vultures."

_A strong wind blew from behind Ping, smelling of rotted flesh. He whipped around and found Shang standing in front of him. _

_His skin was gone, only a grinning skull under his helmet greeted him. Ping gasped and fell back. Behind him his father gave a roar and his armor turned into bloody scales that folded in on him. He rose up and was now a fearsome dragon that soared into the sky, circling the clouds with blood thirsty snarls. _

"As feed for the MAGGOTS!"

_The dragon came down, jaws open and yellow teeth bared. Its crimson eyes glared and it descended down onto Ping with fire spewing from its rancid mouth._

He jolted awake when a slimy tongue flicked at his ear canal.

"Ugh," he groaned around his gag, sticking a finger into his ear to dry it. Around his neck Mushu's body rippled with a chortle. He groaned again when a dull throbbing stabbed at the back of his head like a nail. Where the arrow had lodged into his left arm burned with soreness and felt raw.

He saw a fire flickering a few yards away and was unable to appreciate its warmth from where he was. His back was stiff and he was chilled to his bones. His boots were bound together with leather strips, same as his wrists.

His attempt to sit up was hindered by another chord tying his neck to a stake in the ground. Ping forced his eyes open and found it was already sunset. Several Huns sat around the campfire while one leaned against a gnarled tree next to Ping.

He stood up and loomed over him, giving a malicious smile with ruddy gums. He took a few lumbering steps away, speaking in a foreign tongue to his comrades.

Mushu moved under his armor to whisper in his ear. "Ping. They've been talking about how they're going to kill you."

"Wahaa?" Ping tried to get out around his gag.

"You killed a pretty popular guy back in the Jin Zai camp. That and I think they know you're a famous general's son."

Ping drew his legs in and let his hands rest on his chest. He willed himself to not move or panic as a group of four imposing men stood over him. One approached him and squatted down to his level. He wore leather armor and a hide helmet with studs. His hair hung in silky black strands that melded into his beard.

His flat face and small, bright eyes gave him a savage, carnal element. He lifted his meaty hands to slacken the line around Ping's throat. When he spoke his voice was surprisingly level and a bit more high-pitched than Ping expected for one his size.

"You are son of Fa Zhao, yes?"

Ping tried to answer vocally but had to nod, avoiding eye contact.

"I know. I know sword and armor anywhere." Ping saw his father's sword drawn around the man's waist and looked back at him, confusion knotting his brow. "I am Nergůi. Your father and I, battle once far back." He grinned. "His leg. I wonder, it twisted still like branch?"

Ping felt his muscles tense up and an anger flare up inside in his stomach. His father had never mentioned the name of the one who inflicted his injury. His glare told Nergůi everything he needed and the man grinned.

"Ah, good. I am pleased." He turned to spout out some foreign babble to his comrades and they laughed. "Your father great warrior. Kill many of my men." His face darkened. "Now you kill Ganbaatar. My brother."

The men around him muttered and spat in Ping's direction. Nergůi gripped Ping's bun in his thick fingers and yanked his chin up without mercy. Ping blinked back tears that pricked at his eyes and held his lip steady.

"I kill you, for blood of brother gone. But, not yet, I think. We kill you in front of father." Ping could smell his rancid breath, hitting his face like fumes. "We kill you like goat."

A sickening chill ran down to the tips of his fingers and Nergůi laughed again before shoving Ping's face into the dirt. A rock dug into his cheek and his arm screeched in objection to the angle he was forced to take. He bit his tongue to keep back his yelp.

The guards and Nergůi left him to roll back to his original position on his back. One man tightened the leather chord and Ping felt the material chafe against his sensitive skin, much too aware of his pulse rapidly beating against it.

The smell of food filled the air and the Huns commenced eating with no sign of feeding him. He felt Mushu stir.

"Hey, you didn't faint did you?"

Ping growled.

"Just checking. So here's my plan: when they all settle down for the night, I'll cut you free and provide a distraction while you grab a horse and high tail it back to Rin village. Any objections?"

Ping could sense Mushu's enjoyment at his inability to respond. He nodded and closed his eyes, bringing his fingers up to massage his throbbing temples. His mind went back to earlier that day when the Jin Zai camp was overrun. The screaming horses, the bellowing men and their blood-shined blades.

And Shang. His stomach lurched when he realized there was the possibility that Shang had…he had…

No. Shang had survived. He was still alive, getting the troops in order to march on to the frontline and join the commander's army. He was not dead. He couldn't be.

In the back of his mind, a string of warmth amidst his tangled worries, he wondered: _Is Shang worried about me?_

Shang was about at the end of his proverbial rope. The damage to their supplies and numbers was staggering, but manageable. Out of the two groups, the Jin Zai had been more heavily hit. According to the body count they were down to one-third of their former group, whereas Shang's brigade had suffered less deceased and more destroyed canons.

A second campaign of Huns had ambushed the camp from the south while their brethren distracted the soldiers, setting fire and destroying their carriages and canons with maces and torches. They had also cut down a number of their horses with vicious scythes.

And, to top it all off, Ping had been knocked out and dragged away by a pair of flea-bitten savages right in front of him.

Shang's teeth ground together and he forced himself to keep his cool while atop his horse. He remembered shouting and urging his horse over only to be stopped by an archer shooting at his head. When he had regained his ground, Ping had vanished from sight.

In the moments that followed the ambush, Shang's every other thought revolved around finding Ping, seeing Ping, _where was Ping? _Shang knew. He knew, and yet his stubborn pride refused to let him break down. Instead he kept his head clear and voice level as he gave the orders to move out with the Jin Zai, to the front.

A few men had reported missing soldiers, asking if they should send out a search party. "No," Shang had said, the crack in his voice barely concealed. A gut-wrenching pain ran from his chest to his very core as he cursed his eyes for the traitorous tears they threatened to spill.

"The Huns don't keep live prisoners."


	12. A Father's Legacy

Crickets kept him company as he waited for the Huns to fall victim to sleep's hold. He kept a flighty eye on his guard siting just a yard away on the twisted roots of the tree overhanging his head. The past few hours had tested the limits of his physical and mental capacities. For one, the stake tying down his neck forced him to constantly be on his back, with little rocks and debris digging into the slits of his plates.

Two, they had left him in his armor, which served little warmth from the night chill and was definitely _not _comfortable to lay in for hours on end.

And three, Mushu was bored and resorted to babbling on about his life and times as a guardian. He was also fond of retelling stories of disguising himself as a human male and vividly recounting his courting with unsuspecting women.

And finally, his arm was hurting. A lot. He hadn't had the chance to examine his wound closely, but Mushu was able to slither down his side and look for him. Ping could feel his tiny puffs of breath hitting his skin.

For a moment Mushu was completely still. Then, without any sort of warning, his tongue snaked out and dragged itself thoroughly across the wound. Ping bit down on his gag and forced the groan of discomfort back into his throat as the appendage invaded his injury.

Mushu withdrew his tongue and a tingling sensation started where he had licked. It was painful, but felt more like an itch that was happening underneath his skin as muscles and vessels twisted and fused together.

After a few moments the pain and discomfort was gone. Mushu let out a satisfied exhale and crawled back up to curl around Ping's neck. Ping tried to thank him but Mushu flicked his mouth with his tail.

"Just get some rest, Ping-Pong. I'll wake you when your babysitter is sleepy."

Mushu woke him in a similar fashion from before when it was the dark before dawn, when the stars were at their brightest and the sun was close to rising. Mushu had freed his hands and was now gnawing at the strip around his neck.

"There's a horse to your left already saddled and ready to ride. Your sword is on the ground next to Big Chief over there." Ping took the gag out of his mouth and rolled his tongue around his mouth, shuddering at the dryness there. "I don't know if it's worth trying to save. I say just sneak over to the horse and high-tail it."

"I'm with you there," Ping whispered. A desperate, prideful part of him was screaming to regain his father's most prized possession. But Ping was no fool—he didn't believe that simply retrieving a sword (a sword that he has basically stolen in the first place) was going to win his father's affection. The strip around his neck slackened as Mushu's fangs cut through and Ping commenced making his way to the chestnut stallion.

He went as quickly and quietly as he dared, watching for any signs of waking from the Huns. He froze over half way there, eyeing a bow and quiver propped against a stump were one man slept. Ping licked his lips and tiptoed over, gingerly grabbing the curved bow and leather case with what looked like ten or so feathered arrows. The Hun's breathing changed and his eye lids flickered.

Ping sprinted over to the horse and leapt onto the saddle with adrenaline-backed energy. He snapped the reigns and urged it off just as Mushu slithered out and off of his shoulder, landing on the ground.

"Mushu?!" Ping exclaimed, pulling on the reigns.

"Go, Fa Ping," Mushu said, his voice deep and commanding. As the sun started to peek over the horizon the wind picked up and surrounded the red dragon in a dusty whirlwind. The Huns startled to attention when Mushu's form started changing, his scale shifting and folding as he grew larger with every second.

Ping watched with wide eyes before turning back around and urging on the horse, slinging the quiver around his shoulder. He traveled south, back towards the Jin Zai camp, praying that the Huns wouldn't catch up.

He turned his eyes back to the Hun camp and felt his breath catch in his throat. A huge, red dragon bellowed down at the Huns as it circled their camp, scales gleaming against the paling sky. He felt a horrible pang of recognition at the scene, remembering his dream from the night before.

Ping shook off his dread and carried on, riding the horse hard against the wind to gallop on to the camp.

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ (slight gore alert)

The sight before him was more than just a punch to his stomach. It was something no amount of training and lessons by the greatest commanders could prepare him for. The number of tapestries and paintings and etchings dedicated to the turmoil and aftermath of battle seemed like children's drawings compared to the real thing.

The sky was choked with smoke from the burning buildings to the west where the Huns had pillaged the town. The virgin snow had been trampled and flattened by hooves and soiled with blood that looked unnaturally bright. He was able to handle the unmoving bodies of men and horses that gathered in grotesque piles around the battle field. He was even prepared for stepping over a dismembered arm or decapitated torso.

Shang was not prepared for the living begging for death.

The man with a spear sticking through his chest. One with his insides slipping out of his wound. Another whose skin had been burned straight through to the bone. The wailing, the moaning that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and stomach convulse in revolting ways. He wanted to shove his fingers into his ears and ride away.

And there he was. The man Shang had looked up to all his life, followed after since he was an infant, promised to uphold the family honor and become commander in his shadow. His father lay on the furthest point of the front, bloodied and broken and cold. His sword was still clenched in his hand, his eyes glazed over and slightly open.

Shang just stood and stared at his father's corpse as the Jin Zai attended to the injured. Fuujin's words sounded muffled and far away as Shang fell to his knees to gather his father's hand in his. He made a pray to gods he felt were uncaring and took his father's sword, wiping off the blade and straightening his shoulders.

He was the captain of the last standing brigade against the Hun force. At least, the last brigade that could make it to the Imperial City before the invaders. The main force was annihilated, out of the picture. It was him, the Jin Zai and their men against a force of over one thousand savages bent on bringing down the emperor. This was no time to morn over his father or the men who had died.

This was the time to strike back.

Shang donned his helmet and strode over to Fuujin, clasping him on the shoulder and meeting his solemn gaze with his own.

"Your orders, Captain?" Fuujin asked, voice low.

"We're moving out to Heizhu Valley," Shang stated loudly to the Jin Zai around him. "We're going to cut them off and hinder them long enough for reinforcements to come down from the north." He met the eye of one of his soldiers and for a split second he saw Ping standing there, eyes bright and fierce like the fires raging around them. Shang blinked and he was gone.

His voice caught in his throat and he swallowed thickly.

"Move out!" He ordered, raspy and broken. He brushed off Fuujin's concerned glance and marched to his horse, mounting and riding away from the carnage of his father's passion.

**. . .**

"**carnage of his father's passion."**

**Idk what that means but it sounds intense. **

**I promise there will be more gushy stuff in the next chapter. **


End file.
